


Poor Wayfaring Strangers (and one insufferable bastard)

by crazyhomoinspace



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, M/M, Queer platonic relationships, Survival, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyhomoinspace/pseuds/crazyhomoinspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humanity's wings have melted like wax in the sun. The dead have taken control of the earth. Will this small group of survivors from Karakura Town find salvation, or will they lose themselves in chaos? (Zombie!AU) (Multiple Pairings)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Infection

March 3rd, 2015. That was the day it all started. 

Ichigo Kurosaki really hated watching the news. It was depressing. If it wasn’t something about the new, coolest video game, or sports news, he wasn’t interested. If it was important, his mom would tell him. Like when she gave him a bottle of hand sanitizer and a condom and told him to try not to get Ebola. There were others in the family who could worry. He didn’t have the time. 

The first thing that Ichigo noticed was the increased police presence. No, not increase. Just the fact that there were blue lights flashing in little Karakura Town was enough to raise his eyebrow. 

Two police officers stood at the doors of Karakura High School. The hair on the back of Ichigo’s neck stood on end as he walked past them, shoulders raised and body tense. It was making people nervous. Gossip was heavy in Calculus that morning. 

Ichigo put his books down at his desk. “What’s with the cops at the door?” he asked, apparently rekindling a conversation.

“Someone probably posted a picture of a gun on Facebook,” Keigo drawled, leaning his head on his hand. “Those cops are just bored.”

“If you ask them what’s going on, they just tell you to go to your classroom. It’s really weird.” Orihime Inoue turned in her seat to face the rest of the class, delicate fingers playing with the ends of thin strawberry blonde hair. “It’s scaring people.”

Chatter continued for a few minutes. Ichigo really didn’t care what the cops were doing there, but he had to admit that it was strange. The energy of the day seemed thrown off. Even his teacher seemed flustered. Keigo was probably right. There was probably some unhinged student running around. It was hard to go about business as usual, but Ichigo knew that dwelling on it wouldn’t help anyone. So he went to math class. He went to American History. He-- sadly-- went to art. And he went to gym class.

As always, he walked home alone. Not that he was an anti-social person, mind you. Quite the opposite. He just liked to take the time to clear his head. His route was fairly tranquil-- he’d go around the back of the school, walk the two miles to the hospital, go pat the library, then take Ridgeview all the way to the cul-de-sac. He’d memorized the route as a young child. It was brainless.

You know what was on his mind that day? Nothing too important, really. Just dating. He had a few crushes, as boys his age tended to suffer from. One happened to be the girl in his Calculus class. Orihime, remember? She was cute. Kind of annoying, though. Then there was a girl in his P.E. class. She wasn’t from California. Hell, she was from the other side of the country. Her name was Rukia Kuchiki, and she was the walking embodiment of badassery. But he didn’t really think she was all that pretty, in his opinion. She was tomboyish, and it was kind of weird that she reminded him of his younger sister. 

Flashing lights in his peripheral vision pulled him out of his thoughts. Part of the hospital entrance was blockaded, and guarded by-- were those members of the SWAT Team? Curious, Ichigo jogged closer. He watched as the back doors of the ambulance opened. Armed guards escorted a man off the vehicle. He was handcuffed, and there was a mask around the lower half of his face. Mask? No, that was the wrong word. It was more like a muzzle. The man stumbled awkwardly after the guards, pushed along by one more. 

“Strange, isn’t it?”

Ichigo damn near jumped out of his skin. “God fucking dammit, Ishida,” he growled, turning quickly. “You’re going to give someone a heart attack.”

Uryuu Ishida was an exchange student from Germany. Well, he wasn’t an exchange student in the typical sense. They were stuck with him. He’d been raised in Germany by his mother, and when she passed, he was sent off to America to live with his father. At least, that was the story circulating around the school. There was also the option that he was a ‘creepy German spy.’ 

Either option was viable.

Awkwardly, Uryuu pushed the thin, rectangular glasses up his thin, pointed nose. “I was watching, too. This must be why the school was guarded today.” 

Ichigo scoffed. “Because some Hannibal Lecter wannabe was going to the hospital for a checkup?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “Damn, Karakura’s Finest must have a lot of dangerlust if they feel the need to protect the little children from maybe seeing a crazy man drugged out of his balls,” Ichigo stated, turning his attention away from his classmate.

“I think this is more than it does appear,” Uryuu stated, accent prominent. “My father works for the hospital. He directs the medical.. part.” It was unfortunate that English wasn’t his first language. It was hard for Ichigo to take him seriously. “Something weird happened, I think, but he won’t tell me what is weird.”

Bringing his hand to his eye, Ichigo resisted the urge to both roll his eyes and punch the glasses off of Uryuu’s awkward face. “It’s nothing. Hell, we shouldn’t even be watching this. I’m sure it’s some kind of breach of confidentiality. Go home, Ishida.”

Uryuu pursed his lips, but turned on his well-polished heels. Ichigo tried to forget what he experienced.

March 17th, 2015 was when the silence was broken.

But, as always, Ichigo wouldn’t have known if his mother hadn’t told him. She came into his room, a bowl of soup in her hands. Ichigo had been hard at work on his homework, headphones vibrating with the heavy bass of the music he chose to listen to in order to drown out his own mental screaming. English was his least favourite subject, and he truly resented having to do grammar exercises at sixteen fucking years old.

He saw her coming out of the corner of his eye, paused his iPod, and turned to face her as he pulled the headset off.

“Hey,” he greeted jovially. 

She smiled at him, placing the soup on his desk. “I thought that chicken soup would be just the thing to ward off that creepy sickness they’re keeping at the hospital.”

Ichigo looked confused, but pulled his food closer and ate a spoonful. “What’re you talking about? Did they mash AIDS with Ebola?” he joked. Masaki ruffled her son’s hair.

“You haven’t seen the news report?” she asked. He shook his head. She scooted his wheeled desk chair over with her foot, and crouched down at his computer, typing in the web address for a popular news outlet. She pulled up an article, and gave her son time to read it over.

Never a patient reader, Ichigo skimmed the article, only gleaning the important parts.

“Patient presented at his local Emergency Room with a high fever. Was admitted.. vitals lost,” he muttered, reading along. “Patient was taken to the morgue and-- revived?” Okay, this was getting interesting. “..Blaming the mistake on a clerical error. Patient was transferred to Karakura Hospital due to extreme aggressive behavior and-- mom, this is dumb,” Ichigo groaned, breaking away from the TV. Masaki laughed.

“It’s quite the work of fiction, isn’t it? Some nurse told the news station, and they decided to pick it up for the entertainment value.” She kissed her son on the head. “Still. Eat your soup, honey. It’ll protect you from the Ebola AIDS,” she winked, pulling the door shut behind her.

There was something about a mother’s soup. It was comforting without fail. With a roll of his eyes, Ichigo closed out of the poor excuse of a tabloid article that his mom had shared. That was his mom, though. She was a wealth of knowledge-- and a wealth of totally stupid, goofy, gossip. He dropped his spoon and picked up the bowl to sip from, and went back to his homework.

Tense was a good way to describe the following weeks. Ichigo’s father was a doctor. That job came with a hell of a lot of stress, and it wasn’t uncommon for Ichigo to catch his dad sneaking a cigarette before coming inside for the evening. It was, however, uncommon for Isshin Kurosaki to sneak out after dinner, before bed, before breakfast.. and suck down two or three cigarettes in one go.

When asked, Isshin threw on that cheesy smile he was so famous for, and made a big, grandiose scene about how much the world rested on his shoulders. Though his sisters ate it up, Ichigo could see the pain haunting his father’s eyes. 

“I’m headed off to school!” Ichigo called, jogging down the stairs, his backpack hanging awkwardly off of one shoulder. 

“Come straight home, will you, honey?” Masaki’s voice stopped him at the door.

Ichigo turned, running fingers through his hair and adjusting his bookbag. “I was going to study at Chad’s today.” It wasn’t a statement to strengthen his mother’s confidence, but a question meant to prompt a reason for the perceived non-sequitur. Chad was someone his mother knew and trusted. 

Masaki turned toward him, shaking her head and smiling. “I just have a nice dinner planned, that’s all.”

That afternoon, as Ichigo walked back from school, he was joined by a guest.

“Have you noticed anyone acting weird?” Ichigo asked, looking down at the girl at his side. She was significantly shorter than him, not even reaching his shoulder. She shrugged.

“Do you know how long it took me to notice the regular brands of weird around this place?” came the reply. “I have to know what’s considered normal to know what’s off.”

Ichigo groaned. “Okay, then. God. Have you noticed anything really out of the ordinary?” he asked. “You’ve been here for, like, a year, Rukia. You know when people are out of their right minds.”

Rukia took a moment to ponder. “Well.. I sit next to Ishida in Chemistry. He’s been fiddling with the cross he wears on his wrist and putting on a shit ton of hand sanitizer,” she suggested. Ichigo rolled his eyes.

“I should have mentioned. Ishida doesn’t count. Everything that kid does is weird.”

They both went silent as, speak of the Devil, Uryuu Ishida lightly shoved past them, shooting them an unreadable expression before moving on. Rukia groaned.

“Great. Now I feel like a dick,” Ichigo sighed.

“You did bad, and you should feel bad.”

Sundays were the one day of rest he was granted. All other mornings, he was a slave to his alarm, or his father would either wake him at the asscrack of dawn with a kick to the shin. His brow clenched, however, as he opened his eyes to the feeling of hands on his shoulders and yelling in his ear.

“Ichigo! Ichigo, get your ass out of this bed this instant,” his father barked, pulling away his blankets. Thoroughly disoriented, Ichigo threw a punch, only to be neutralized before making contact.

“What’s--” 

Isshin threw clothes onto the floor from inside of Ichigo’s drawers. “Pack what you can, but pack light. We need to--”

“Is something on fire?” Ichigo asked, hopping out of bed and grabbing a shirt and pair of jeans of questionable cleanliness. Isshin paused for a moment.

“Ichigo. Look out your window. Slowly. Don’t attract attention.”

Nodding slowly, brain still working on connecting everything, he made his way to the window. He crouched down, and pulled the blinds back.

Very funny, subconscious. Ichigo couldn’t help but grin. He was still asleep, wasn’t he? Strange, how vivid the dream was. He could feel his heart beat through his ribcage. He could hear his father scrambling behind him. He could manipulate the window covering in his hand. He could see the bloodied, shambling men, women, and children roaming the street like a stampede, or a migration.

Fear clenched at his heart. If it were a dream, he’d have awoken by then.

“Ichigo. Take your mother and your sisters, and stay in the house. Do not go into the clinic.” Isshin’s words were firm and deliberate.

“No. Fuck that. Where are you going?” Ichigo demanded. Isshin held his son’s shoulders.

“Ichigo, you have to listen to me. I’m going to the hospital,” he explained. 

That answer didn’t satisfy Ichigo. “Really, dad? Because I’m pretty goddamn sure that a fucking human barricade is a good enough reason to call in sick.” Panic was beginning to take hold of Ichigo’s voice.

“This is non-negotiable, Ichigo. Stay as long as you can, unless it’s no longer safe to do so. If we get separated, we’ll meet in Bishop. At that restaurant your mom likes,” Isshin stated, patting his son’s shoulder.

Without giving Ichigo time to process, Isshin was gone. Ichigo jogged down the stairs, and herded his family into the living room, where there were few windows. They were silent. Words failed.

An hour passed. Maybe two. Ichigo couldn’t tell. They sat close, speaking in hushed tones, trying to ignore whatever was happening out there. The sound of claws on the door startled them out of their sense of safety. Ichigo was the first to stand.

“I have to go get dad,” he stated plainly. “It’s been too long. We have to get out of here.

Ichigo’s sisters both looked concerned, but it was his mother who spoke. “We mustn’t go out,” she urged her son, who promptly waved her off in favor of pulling on his shoes.

“I can handle this,” he said with a firm nod. Could he? No, probably not. But he wasn’t considering the option of failure. He wouldn’t accept anything less than safety and success. 

“I love you,” Masaki said tearfully, wrapping her arms around her only son’s shoulders, She pressed a kiss to his temple.

“I love you, too,” came the quiet, almost shaky response. Ichigo turned to leave, slipping quietly out of the front door. The street was flooded with the dead, who turned their attention to Ichigo’s brisk movements. 

April 12th, 2015 was when humans relinquished control of the earth.


	2. Outbreak

Never before had Ichigo Kurosaki been afraid to leave his home. He paused at his front door, bracing himself for what was to come. The brain was funny, really. He hadn’t fully processed what those people were doing outside, but he knew that it was bad, and he knew that his family would have a better chance of surviving if it was in one piece. Isshin should never have left. 

His brain was fixated on self-preservation. Without realizing it, Ichigo’d taken one of his mother’s larger, heavier umbrellas. He clenched his fingers around the handle as he locked the door, and slowly began to ford the fucking river of people meandering down what used to be a residential neighborhood. With no clear path in mind, Ichigo took a minute to orient himself. He’d been wrong when he’d thought of them as people. They were corpses. He knew what death smelled like, and it was thick in the air. Ichigo pushed that thought from his mind. The hospital was maybe twenty minutes on foot from the house-- he’d be back in an hour, given the.. er.. traffic.

Is it possible to dress for the apocalypse? Ichigo somehow felt underdressed, like he needed to present himself more like a badass and less like a teenaged boy. The thick red sweatshirt he wore hid a long-sleeved grey t-shirt, and covered the waist of his skinny jeans. Yes, skinny jeans. He really hadn’t expected the end of the world. He had, thankfully, remembered to put on his snow boots. It wasn’t snowing, but, fuck. Weirder things had happened.

Weirder things were happening.

As he walked, he felt eyes on him. Moans floated through the air, lending unsettling, ethereal background noise. They were growing louder. They were closing in. Among the lions, he was a gazelle. Everything was covered in blood. It made his heart clench with panic.

So what does Ichigo Kurosaki decide to do? Why, the one thing that he’d always done, of course.

He ran.

About six long, bouncing strides into his attempt to break from the herd, he’d realized that he’d just done A Very Stupid Thing. They hadn’t been following him. Now, he was all they were focused on. He was a target. He was dinner.

But dammit, he was committed. 

Ichigo let instinct take over as he ran to the hospital, jumping curbs and practically drifting around corners. It didn’t matter. There were more of them with every turn. He was outnumbered, and now he had their fucking attention.

Awesome.

As he rounded a corner, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders pull him into an alley. Out of instinct, he swung his umbrella, made contact with the offender’s chest, and turned to continue beating his assailant. 

Oh.

Ichigo paused, umbrella poised above his head, ready to strike. “What the fuck, Chad?” he hissed, lamely lowering his raingear. Chad Yasutora was a long-time classmate of his, and someone he’d considered a friend. He was a well-mannered truck of a man, with dark curls hanging in his face and impeding his vision. He was visible from miles away, thanks to that god-awful red Hawaiian shirt he wore. But really, Ichigo was relieved to see him safe.

“You’re being followed,” Chad pointed out. Ichigo rolled his eyes.

“Nah, really? I thought I was just fuckin’ Kim Kardashian or something.” Ichigo knew better-- Chad tended to ignore his sarcasm. But that was how he dealt with stress. He became hostile.

Speaking of hostile, he gasped audibly as he felt the brushing of fingers against his shirt. A snarl followed. Chad grabbed him and pulled him further down the alley. The alley was small and dead-ended, which Chad really should have recognized as a problem earlier, in Ichigo’s opinion. One of those.. things.. followed them in. 

“What do we do?” Ichigo asked lowly, holding up his umbrella.

The question was answered for him.

Before he could process what had happened, the zombie was on her back, an arrow firmly lodged in her eye socket, angled toward her brain. He stepped back in horror.

“They are dead. You mustn’t hesitate!”

Dread filled Ichigo’s stomach as the thick German accent hit his ears.

Of all of the fucking people who had to save his life, it had to be Uryuu fucking Ishida.

Uryuu stood on the roof of a nearby building, holding a simple recurve bow. A quiver was strapped to his back, full of arrows, and he was wearing gloves. A well-fitted black coat covered him to the knee, revealing only the bottom of his impossibly tight black skinny jeans. If Ichigo hadn’t been in such a state of shock, he would have rolled his eyes. Would it have made him a hypocrite? Possibly, but he was willing to make the sacrifice.

But the fact remained that blood was staining the pavement, and there was a body at his feet. Nothing could have prepared him for that. He regarded Ishida with a look of wide-eyed horror. No, he hadn’t liked Ishida, but he never would have imagined him to be capable of murder.

“What the fuck, Ishida?” he demanded, voice quivering. “You just killed someone!”

Uryuu sighed impatiently. “I already did tell you-- they were dead before this! They are all dead. They cannot hurt, and it is not like murder.”

Ichigo opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Chad tapping his shoulder. 

“We need to go.”

And Ichigo saw the merit in that. All of the commotion was attracting more to the alley, and Ichigo really didn’t want to stick around to see what would happen if one of them got their hands on him. And as much as he hated to admit it, they’d be safer in numbers. It was harder to be cornered that way.

“Ishida, are you coming?” Ichigo asked reluctantly. He didn’t want him with them. But honestly.. he’d be valuable. He seemed to know what was happening.

If it hadn’t been so dark, he would have seen the spark of surprise light up Ishida’s blue eyes.

“...I can’t.”

Ichigo paused. “What do you mean, you ‘can’t?’” he asked impatiently.

“...By that I mean that my ladder has fallen and I cannot get down.”

“Fucking Christ,” Ichigo hissed. “Fuck it, there’s no time for this. Just jump, it’s one fucking story.” Leave it to Ishida to be a princess in a state of emergency. 

Ishida took a few steps back, got a running start, and delicately leapt down into Chad’s waiting arms. If it’d been Ichigo, he’d just let the guy fall-- he wouldn’t have broken anything, right? The group of three made their way back onto the main road through Karakura Town, each man clenching his weapon. Well, except for Chad. He was a weapon all by himself, really. 

As they inched closer to the hospital, Ichigo felt apprehension grip at his stomach. What if his father hadn’t gone to the hospital? What if he was already home? What if he was out looking for him, too? What if he’d..?

The constant stream of what-ifs running through his mind was cut short by Chad stopping short, and Ichigo grunted in surprise as he ran face-first into Chad’s brick wall of a back. Both Chad and Ishida were eerily quiet. It was Chad who finally shook his head and turned.

“...Let’s turn back.” 

As Chad and Ishida both turned around to double back, Ichigo took a moment to look at the scene in front of them. Gunfire could be heard from inside the hospital. There were no lights, just flames. Ichigo felt his heart rate skyrocket.

“No. We can’t. My-- Ishida, isn’t your father there?” Ichigo demanded.

“It would be suicides,” Ishida countered. “We will find nothing inside. We will find nothing in Karakura. Do you know how oxygen comes to the operating theater?”

Ichigo regarded him with an utter lack of patience. “My father’s a surgeon, Ishida. I kno--”  
“Then you know that oxygen runs under those floors. And I’m guessing that you got good grades in Chemistry?”

“What does that have to do--”

Ishida pushed his glasses up his nose. “What happens when fire meets pure oxygen?”

The group was silent, until Chad made a gesture of explosion with his hands, accompanied by a quiet ‘bang.’ 

Ishida shook his head and turned on his heels, facing the direction they’d just come from. “We need to run, and find where safety is.” He dragged his hand down his face, already looking tired. “We should have run months ago. This was bound to happen.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Always the fucking conspiracy theorist. Can’t you be fucking realistic for once?”

Ishida stepped closer. “What about this is realistic?” he demanded. “Corpses are walking and this town is chaos. Leaving here is our only option!”

“Not without my family, it isn’t,” Ichigo growled, looking Ishida in the eye. Uryuu was the first to back down. He muttered to himself, presumably in German, and simply fell in behind Ichigo. He’d follow, but he didn’t have to be happy about it. 

Ichigo took the lead as they walked through the crowded streets. He knew this route, he realized, though the scenery had changed quite a bit. And as he examined the faces of the, as Ishida had called them, dead, his stomach clenched as he realized that.. God help him, he knew some of them. 

What the fuck was going on? How could an entire city fall in a matter of hours, no matter how small it was? Ichigo wiped his brow, sweat gathering from exertion and anxiety. 

“...Ishida. Since you know everything… how did this happen?” Ichigo asked lowly. Uryuu set his jaw as he formulated his thoughts. Even Chad-- who really seemed to be taking everything in stride up to that point-- had much of his attention on Uryuu.

Uryuu clenched his jaw. “I would prefer to discuss this when it is safer. But I will tell you-- though you should have already be paying good attention.”

It wasn’t surprising that Uryuu had to draw out his time in the spotlight. Ichigo liked to see himself as a tolerant man, really.. but something about that kid just rubbed him the wrong way. Some people just weren’t meant to get along. If love at first sight could be a thing, so could hate at first sight, right? 

The group stopped suddenly, as they noticed Chad halt in his tracks. Ichigo turned to scold him for stopping, but a quick glance at a nearby building made it all click. He knew where they were, and he could read Chad’s mind. That didn’t mean, however, that Uryuu could.

“Why have we stopped?” he hissed lowly.

“Inoue,” Chad said plainly, looking at the apartment building. It was an old, rundown place. The paint was chipped, the wood floors creaked, the carpeting smelled like old people, mothballs, and just a hint of crack cocaine.. but it was what Orihime and her older brother had been able to afford. 

“Are you sure you want to go in there?” An unexpected, feminine voice startled Ichigo, who turned sharply, clutching that damn umbrella. But there was no one there. He turned away, thinking that Uryuu was just sounding girlier than usual. A swift kick to the shins brought him back to reality-- and face to face with his pint-sized assailant.

Rukia Kuchiki. He’d never been so relieved to be doubled over in pain. She was an unmistakable girl, short-statured and sour-faced. Her personality was as wild as her legs were short. But damn, she packed a punch. As he straightened, he looked at her with a serious expression. 

“I can’t think of a single person who dislikes Inoue,” Ichigo admitted. “We’re going in.” Chad stepped forward, as if to say that he’d be doing the same. Ichigo met Rukia’s eyes. “Will you keep watch?” he asked. 

Rukia nodded, and whistled to get Uryuu’s attention. She wasn’t about to stand out there without some kind of protection. Ichigo had Chad. It was only fair. “C’mon, Katniss.” She was able to ignore his angry, German mutterings.

For the hundredth time that day, Ichigo felt fear grip at his chest. The ridiculousness of the situation was beginning to set in. Zombie apocalypses had been imagination fuel for millions.. but now, Ichigo was living it. It was wrong. It was fucked up. He should be worrying about math, or girls... not worrying about what the fuck would happen if one of those walking corpses got ahold of him.

A scream pulled him out of his daydream. Without thinking, he and Chad took off, running up the rickety stairs of the run-down apartment building. It was empty. Ichigo was grateful for that. Instinct led him straight to Orihime’s door. He jiggled the handle, only to find that it was locked. He didn’t have to say anything. Once his eyes met Chad’s, Chad took a slight running start, and broke the plywood door off of the hinge. 

“Inoue?” Ichigo called, stepping over the demolished door and looking around the apartment wildly. He could hear movement, he was simply too panicked to find the source. Finally, an urgent cry of “Ichigo!” caught his attention.

Without much thought, he and Chad ran into the kitchen. Inoue was in the kitchen, shielding herself with a roasting pan. A vaguely familiar figure was going after her, hands outreached and movements uncoordinated. The red-haired girl was able to keep her attacker at bay while the two young men rushed toward her. Chad grabbed the man by the shoulders and pushed him off. When he saw the man’s face, the whole dynamic switched.

The attacker was Sora, Orihime’s older brother. No. This wasn’t Sora. It couldn’t have been. Color had drained from his face. His eyes were a pale yellow, his face expressionless. A gruesome wound sat on his shoulder, open and still oozing. There was blood everywhere. On his face, on his hands, on every article of clothing he wore.

“Are you hurt?” Ichigo asked her. 

She shook her head. “No, but Sor--”

“It’s okay!” he stated, buying time while he thought for a moment. “He just needs time to get over it. Chad, can you--?”

Without needing to be told twice, Chad held Sora’s shoulder and neck, and forced him into the bathroom. He closed the door firmly behind him, hoping that it would at least hold long enough for them to get the hell out of there. 

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Ichigo urged, taking Orihime’s hand. “It’s not safe here.”  
It was clear to him that Orihime didn’t know what was going on-- but she was hesitant to leave her brother behind. But they hadn’t locked the door. They hadn’t trapped him in there. He’d be able to get out, if he wanted to. So he and Chad took the choice out from under her. With their hands on her back and on her arm, they led her down the stairs, and down to where Uryuu and Rukia were waiting. 

The first thing that Ichigo noticed was the dead zombie lying at their feet. Uryuu was standing over the corpse, trying to figure out the best way to retrieve the arrow from its eye socket. He watched, painfully, as Uryuu reluctantly placed his foot on the zombie’s hair, and forcefully jerked upward on the arrow. It released with a sickening pop. 

“Where next?” he asked, grimacing as he placed the arrow back into his quiver. “I maintain that we must leave this place as soon as possible.”

Chad lived alone. Rukia lived alone. Ishida hated his father. Orihime’s only family was trying to eat her. That left Ichigo as the only one with something to lose, in his mind. Without speaking, Ichigo took his place at the front of the group, and led them back toward his family home. 

He found that the slower they moved, the less attention they attracted. That didn’t make it easy for him, however. He wanted to run. But an umbrella, Chad, and Ishida’s bow wasn’t enough to shield them from the hordes of corpses wandering the streets. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that it was a prank anymore. Not from the smell, the blood staining Karakura’s streets, or the way Sora had been viciously attacking his younger sister. No. This was dangerous, and Uryuu had been right. They needed to haul ass.

“Hey. Isn’t that your house?” Rukia asked, pointing to a building. The door was open, and a small group of zombies were gathered in the doorway. 

Fuck.

Ichigo dropped the umbrella. He took off, pushing the bodies away, not caring about the way they grabbed at him and snapped their teeth. Ichigo tended to be tunnel-visioned. This was no exception.

“Ishida, clear the doorway. Chad, Inoue, Kuchiki-- help me look.” 

Ichigo tore through his house, examining the faces of the dead making themselves welcome in his home. “Mom, dad!” he called. There were no signs of his younger sisters. There were no signs of his parents. 

“Ichigo, in here!” 

Ichigo ran into the kitchen where Rukia stood, holding a note. It was on the back of some grocery store receipt, and in his father’s handwriting, simply said ‘Ichigo, run.’ He tucked the note into his pocket and turned on his heels. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the panicked cry of Orihime Inoue coming from the upstairs bathroom.

There was no hesitance in Ichigo’s steps. He ran up the stairs, and damn near slid into the closet door. He was joined by the rest of the group, save for Ishida, at the bathroom doorway. A dead zombie laid bent over the bathtub. He grabbed it by the shoulder and turned it. Relief filled his chest as he realized that he didn’t know it. He paused, however, as Chad tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned. 

His world shattered.

Standing in the shower, blood smeared on the glass door, stood his beloved mother. No. His rational mind said that she wasn’t his mother. She was a shell. But his heart had other ideas. He shooed everyone out of the room with a fierce glare and raised lip. Slowly, he opened the shower door. She stepped out, eyes locked on his. They bore an eerie resemblance to the eyes that had been such a source of comfort for him when he was a child. 

She lunged at him, and Inoue screamed for Uryuu. Ichigo pushed his mother to the ground, noting the bloodied bite mark on her arm. She snarled. He didn’t count the minutes it took her to stand, if it even took that long. Time stood still. He was numb. All he knew was that she stood, lunged for him again…

And fell to the ground, an arrow lodged firmly in her temple.

Slowly, Ichigo turned. He met Uryuu’s horrified gaze. Ishida stepped closer, trying to find comforting words. Ichigo wouldn’t hear it. Wordlessly, he approached his classmate, and punched him square in the nose. 

“Come on.”

The rest of the group followed Ichigo, though Inoue hung back briefly to help Uryuu back to his feet.

At least it gave Ichigo the opportunity to wipe the unruly tears from his face.


	3. Trust

Humans were never meant to live in such luxury. If Ichigo had to tell what he’d learned in the past eight months, that would sum it up. They were pigs being prepped for slaughter, and only the quick and the cunning had been able to avoid the guillotine up to that point. Humanity had been rendered impotent, and fast. 

During their expedition, the Karakura Group had met others. They never stayed. Some were killed. Some were bitten. Most just.. disappeared. Ichigo liked to think they’d found somewhere safe, but that was the small flame of optimism that burned in his heart expressing itself. It didn’t have much room to grow anymore. 

No matter where they roamed, they always ended circling back to Karakura Town. They’d gone to Bishop, and found it burnt to the ground. It was there, sitting under a tree at midday, watching Uryuu teach Rukia to shoot under pressure, that he realized that he’d never see his family again. Life would never go back to the way it was. 

And it broke his heart.

They’d found a little, run down clothing store at the end of Main Street where they’d decided to set up camp. It was risky, of course, being so close to the main road. But they’d decided that it would be more dangerous to live out in the woods and make the trek on foot into town whenever they ran low on supplies. 

It was human nature that, in the absence of government, that one would erect itself from the ashes. In the case of the little group of survivors from Karakura Town, that government was Ichigo Kurosaki. Among them, he was the only one truly suited to being any kind of leader. 

Though Ichigo led, everybody had a job of some kind. The world had gone to shit-- the least they could do was support one another. 

Uryuu could hunt. Over the months, he’d gathered an impressive collection of weapons. Along with his simple little recurve bow, he’d found a compound bow, a crossbow, and, courtesy of one of those poor bastards who had redefined ‘fast food,’ a sniper rifle. Not that he used it. The noise attracted the zombies. But it was fucking intimidating, and that was what he’d liked about it. He brought back deer, squirrels.. and rats, when the woods were scarce. 

Rukia and Orihime scavenged. They gathered food from houses, medicines from pharmacies. Ichigo would accompany them when there was little else to do. It was hard work, really, and only becoming harder as the weather grew colder. Being the more adventuresome of the two, Rukia had started roaming out further. Orihime, on the other hand, took more time to take care of everyone. She washed clothing, cooked food-- when nobody was around to take the privilege away from her.

Chad had fallen into the role of security detail. When the girls went out, Chad went with them. Though, if Ichigo went in his stead, he guarded their camp. He was the only one within the group who didn’t carry some kind of weapon. Even the girls had been given knives, and in Rukia’s case, a handgun. He saw no use. Besides, it was more likely that he’d end up hurting himself. 

The morning of December 23rd was like any other. Ichigo only knew that it was December 23rd because of Orihime, who carefully marked the date on the calendar on the wall each morning. He wasn’t the first one up. He never was. Most of the group had converted the oversized family fitting room into a bedroom. Though, Uryuu had chosen to sleep behind the desk near the front of the store. ‘For safety,’ he’d said, though Ichigo knew it was bullshit. A rift had been driven between the two of them that night, not too long ago. It occasionally crossed Ichigo’s mind to wonder why Uryuu stayed, but he decided that it was probably just out of necessity. 

Ichigo sat on the wood floor with a small bowl of dry granola in his lap, a dirty wet wipe on the ground beside him. He watched as Rukia emerged from the fitting room, beelining to the back door. If she had to name one thing that she missed from the civilized world, it had to be indoor plumbing. He smiled weakly as she returned, grabbed a wet wipe from the container on the counter, wiped her hands, and sat next to him. The apocalypse was no excuse to be gross.

She’d changed. They all had. Rukia’s hair, once cropped to her chin, brushed her shoulders with a slight curl at the ends. Her once playful brown eyes had hardened. Her clothing choices no longer bordered cute and tomboyish, but consisted of jeans, heavy long-sleeved shirts, and whatever boots she could find in her freakishly small size. 

Orihime had been more resistant to the fashion apocalypse than she had to the real end of the world. She braided her hair, and asked Chad to pin it to the back of her head to keep it out of her way. She had Uryuu mend her dresses and particularly cute tops when they tore-- turned out that the weirdo was abnormally skilled with a needle and thread. Though, only when cornered, she gave up her love of high heels, and traded them for the ‘cutest’ sneakers that Ichigo could find. 

Rukia’s voice snapped him out of his musings.

“I was thinking of going to the other side of town today,” she said casually, taking a handful of his breakfast for herself. His brow scrunched.

“After what happened last time? No fucking way?” The mere mention brought back imagery of Chad having to carry Rukia over his shoulder while Ichigo cut down zombie after zombie, just trying to make a hole in the horde. They ended up having to hide in a dumpster for hours while the goddamn stampede of zombies worked past.

She shrugged. “It’s probably clear now, Ichigo. Besides, there’s a real grocery store over there. The gas station isn’t going to keep us going forever, and did you see what Ishida brought back last night? I never want to eat another rat again,” she grimaced. 

Ichigo went quiet. Rukia was stubborn. If she wanted to go, she’d go. She’d bribe Chad to go with her, and find a way to keep the others quiet. It was more dangerous that way. His jaw clenched.

“Fine. But we go together on this one. All of us.” He stood. “Wake the others.”

It was rare that the whole group went on a run together. But, it would save them time in the long run. Five backs could carry more than two. That meant fewer trips, and less danger. The sun was setting early, so Ichigo made sure that everyone was armed and ready before noon struck. 

If anyone else thought it was a dumb idea, they kept it to themselves. 

“We don’t break formation for anything, understand?” Ichigo asked, voice stern. Everybody nodded. They walked out in a tight circle, with Chad walking backwards, his back pressed to Ichigo’s. Uryuu was out in front, bow in the ready, while Rukia and Orihime both stayed to the center. Tensions were high. Hell, Ichigo couldn’t remember what a stable heart rate felt like. 

“Well, isn’t this cute?”

With only mere seconds of delay, Uryuu’s bow was cocked and aimed, Rukia’s handgun was raised, and Ichigo held a meat cleaver out in front of himself.

“Easy, kiddos. You should know by know that the ones that talk aren’t as immediately dangerous as the ones who don’t.”

Ichigo snarled. “Show yourself,” he barked.

And like an obedient child, the man did so. He wasn’t particularly intimidating. He couldn’t be much taller than Ichigo. His blonde hair was shaggy, and hid his face just as well as the green and white striped hat on his head. He wore unsettlingly normal clothing-- was that a fucking cardigan? But his smile.. that was the truly strange thing about him. Ichigo couldn’t place his intentions.

“Tell us your name,” Ichigo demanded. The man nodded.

“I am a poor wayfaring stranger, traveling through this world of woe,” he sang with a playful glint in his eye. “Kisuke Urahara. Since we’re exchanging pleasantries, who are you?” he asked, chin tilted. 

Ichigo hesitated, but saw no harm in it. “Ichigo Kurosaki. Chad Yasutora. Uryuu Ishida. Orihime Inoue. Rukia Kuchiki.” He gestured to each person. “Now what do you want?”

“Are you from around these parts? I haven’t seen you here before.” Urahara’s head was tilted, his expression almost playful.

Ichigo’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? You’re not from here,” he stated matter-of-factly. Urahara brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“I’ve been here several times since the outbreak started. I’ve never seen you.”

Rukia turned toward the stranger. “We have a way of not being seen,” she stated, voice low. “We’re all from Karakura. What of it?” she snapped. 

“Interesting..” Urahara stated, and took a moment to look them all over. It was safe. There were no zombies in the immediate area-- at least, not at that moment. “What if I told you that there was somewhere safe?” he asked, gaze meeting Ichigo’s. He could tell a leader when he saw one. Ichigo clenched.

“Nowhere’s safe,” he insisted. 

Urahara shook his head. “Seireitei is safe,” he insisted, an eyebrow raised, almost as a challenge to the redheaded teenager in front of him. 

“...What are you talking about?” The knife was lowered.

“A few hours from here, there’s a refugee camp. More of a small town, really. We took a college campus, and turned it into a safehaven for the living, free of the dead. We have over thirty people, and we have room for plenty more. You’d have your own room, a fair amount of food, hot showers..”

That caught Rukia’s attention. “I’m in,” she stated. “This could be a massive trap, and I don’t give a fuck. I’ll take the risk,” she said, lowering her gun. 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “What if it is a trap?” he asked, staring the man down. 

“Well, here’s my question to you. I could spend all day trying to convince you that it’s safe-- but these monsters have brought down millions of grown men-- what chance has a group of seventeen year old kids?” Urahara didn’t back off. He held Ichigo’s glare. And the strange thing was that Ichigo didn’t feel any malice coming off of the man. It felt like he could trust him. Maybe that was that little flame burning in his heart again, but it was a nice thought. He didn’t have those very often.  
The truth was that they were just teenagers. They were spoiled kids. They were living off of protein bars, expired candy, and the rare wild animal. At that rate, they wouldn’t last. They weren’t prepared. They had to move, and this was the most promising opportunity they’d been given. Period.

Nobody raised any protest, so Ichigo nodded slowly. “The moment you turn on us, we won’t hesitate to shoot. Is that clear?” he asked lowly, basically staring into Urahara’s soul. The stranger nodded. 

“I’d give you a pinky promise, but I really feel like that wouldn’t mean much to you. Kids these days,” he joked. 

The group circled back to the clothing store, plus one more body. Urahara stood just inside while each one of them packed whatever they could into their hiking backpacks. Food, clothing, weapons-- poor Uryuu looked like he’d get caught on something, with all of the bows and arrows poking out of his bag. Orihime packed her weight’s worth of clothes and snacks, while Chad loaded himself with the heavy things-- water and ammo. 

“What’s this place called again?” Orihime asked, hoisting her backpack on. 

“Seieitei,” Urahara responded. “It means ‘the court of pure souls.’ One of the people who started converting it into a refuge had been a Japanese professor,” he explained. 

“And they’re welcoming?” Rukia asked, falling in line behind Orihime. “It’s bad enough that the dead are roaming the earth. I don’t need the living trying to kill me, too,” she sighed, hip cocked.

Urahara smiled. “They’ll be glad to have you. It’s been a while since we’ve had anyone new. The amount of survivors is beginning to dwindle, you know.”

Chad nodded in understanding. 

Their conversation was cut short by the buzzing of the walkie talkie on Urahara’s hip.

“Dr. Jekyll, you still breathing? Over.”  
“Yes, Binx,” Urahara responded. “Headed home. Got a few friends with me. Over.”  
“Friends? Please don’t let it be spiders again. Evangeline still won’t talk about it. Over.”  
A laugh. “They’re human. Over.”  
“How many? Over.”  
“Five. Three boys, two girls.   
“Okay. I’ll have Five prep rooms. Oh. That lone wolf is up and about. He’s with Jenny. They’re calling him The Last Unicorn. Over.”  
“And rightly so. Okay, I’m bringing them in. Give it two days. Over.”   
“10-4. Over and out.”

Urahara clipped the device back onto his belt and smiled at the looks he was getting. “See? I told you.” 

Being on the road put everyone on edge. Being on the road with a complete stranger was even more nerve-wracking. Urahara walked calmly, a hint of a spring in his step. Rukia looked down at his feet-- he was wearing khaki capris and, of all things, flip flops. They were in the presence of a psychopath, she was damn sure. Nobody could dress like Mr. Rogers and keep their hand on their pistol at all times and still be completely hinged. Though, to be fair, were any of them sane? 

“I’m going there to see my father. I’m going there no more to roam--”

“Shut up,” Ichigo snapped lowly. 

Urahara looked back at him, expression calm, if not a little bit curious. “What’s wrong?” he asked, slowing the pace of his steps.

“Noise attracts them. Shut the fuck up,” Ichigo insisted. Urahara smirked.

“You really need to learn to let go of your fears, Ichigo Kurosaki. You’ll have wrinkles before you hit twenty,” he scolded jovially. 

Ichigo simply grit his teeth. Fighting this man would be counter-productive. Urahara took to humming, to compromise with Ichigo’s-- in his mind-- irrational fears. Ichigo made a mental note to kick his ass when it was safe to do so. 

Uryuu halted suddenly, kicking up gravel with the force of his stop. The group turned. They watched as, without any hesitance, Uryuu lined up a shot and let loose an arrow. Urahara raised an eyebrow as the boy jogged away from the group, and returned with a bloodied arrow. In the distance, a lone zombie lay dead, a small wound from the arrow in its temple.

“Very good eye, triggerfinger,” Urahara praised. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he asked kindly. Ishida regarded him with suspicion, and simply placed the arrow back into his quiver. Urahara’s brow raised.

“He doesn’t much talk,” Inoue explained. “Well, he used to. But I guess something changed,” she shrugged. 

“Such a shame,” Urahara stated, though turned to Ichigo when the boy snorted. 

“It’s a blessing,” Ichigo joked, eyes rolling. The smirk on his face faded when he saw the unapproving expressions of everyone else in the group.

“I’m still here,” Uryuu spoke lowly. “Do not talk of me as if I’m not here.”

The group went silent. Urahara broke the awkward pause with a calm, gentle, “What a sweet accent you have.” Did it help? No, but it was true. 

When night fell, Chad proposed that they stop for the night. Zombie activity increased after dusk, and it wouldn’t be safe to keep going. They were too likely to get lost, and too likely to get hurt. So they found and cleared a small house. The previous tenants had been kind enough to leave them some more than stale cereal and a few packets of saltines. Hey, they took what they could get.

The house was big enough for them to split up. Rukia and Orihime shared a bed, and Chad slept in one of his own-- nobody was about to share a twin with him. Ishida, true to himself, slept on the couch, nearest to the front door. Wanting to keep an eye on Urahara, Ichigo settled down in a room with him.

“Why are you so cruel to the boy?” Urahara asked, nibbling on a cracker. “He seems to be a central support of your group.”

Ichigo scoffed. “Nobody said I was cruel to him.”

“Body language is an amazing thing, Ichigo. You shut him down before he even opened his mouth. In a world like this, what kind of grudge could possibly matter?” he asked, genuinely curious. 

Ichigo went quiet, taking a few moments to finish a handful of rock hard Cheerios. “He knows what he did,” he muttered bitterly. Something about him trusted Urahara, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to speak so openly to such a stranger. 

“Oh,” Urahara said, leaning forward in curiosity. “He may, but I don’t. I’m bringing you to safety, Ichigo. I feel that this information is a menial price to pay.”

Ichigo pushed the bowl of stale carbohydrates away, standing and approaching the door. Instead of leaving, he leaned against it. 

“He killed my mother.”

“Under what circumstances?” Urahara asked, not even needing time to process. He’d heard almost everything possible at that point.

“...She turned.”

“And you blame him for that, really? After seeing all they’ve done and the pain they’ve caused?” Urahara asked calmly. “Ichigo, to have lived this long, you must have seen what has happened when the dead are allowed to walk.”

Ichigo turned violently. “I knew you wouldn’t fucking get it,” he snarled, glaring daggers into the man’s placid eyes. 

“I know better than you think,” Urahara snapped right back, expression hardening for the first time since they’d met. “There isn’t a one of us living who hasn’t experienced devastation at the hands of the walkers, Ichigo.” He stood, and grabbed the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t think you blame him at all, do you?” 

Ichigo shoved him back with both hands. “Leave me the fuck alone,” he growled maliciously, fists clenching. Urahara stepped back. He held his hands up weakly in surrender. 

“You will realize it yourself, in time.”

White-knuckled and jaw clenched, Ichigo turned away before he said or did something he’d regret. He slammed the door shut as he left, deciding that he’d prefer to sleep in the bathtub than in the same room with that prying asshole.

Nobody spoke as they left that next morning, waking before dawn and walking by the red glow from the morning sun. Urahara swore that it wasn’t much further, that they’d be able to make it before nightfall, if all went well. The entire group was tired, and they’d been tired long before they’d started this journey. And to think that there was a safe place only a two-day walk away? Why the hell had they decided to stay in Karakura?

It was Rukia who broke the silence, pitifully asking “Are we there yet?”

Urahara chuckled. “Very near. See how I painted the trees red?” he asked, pointing at red arrows painted along the trees at eye level. “I wasn’t on the road long enough to gain any real tracking skills, so I stick with the tried and true Hansel and Gretel method,” he grinned.

“No tracking skills? Then what were you even doing in Karakura?” Rukia asked. 

“I’m a scientist,” he explained. “I wanted to examine ground zero, and see what I could find.”

“But why go alone?” Inoue asked, head cocked.

“It’s safer that way,” he shrugged. “My wife wanted to come with me, but she’s needed at Seireitei.” 

It was clear by Urahara’s more sunny demeanor and quickened steps that they were getting close. A certain part of Ichigo still thought that they were being lured into a trap, but he felt like Urahara would have already killed them by then if that was his goal. It wasn’t until, in the distance, he saw the huge, historic buildings of an abandoned university that he realized that he’d been telling the truth. 

The place was situated on a hill, sprawled over miles, it looked like. Ichigo saw a makeshift watchtower, and a long, intimidating fenceline. It resembled a prison more than anything, but the brightly colored mural painted on the side of what had been the Visitor’s Center challenged that idea.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I welcome you to Seireitei,” Urahara chirped, bowing playfully.


	4. Chapter 4

The arrival of newcomers was taken very seriously at Seireitei. Ichigo stood back and watched as Urahara communicated with the gatekeepers over his walkie talkie. What they were talking about, he didn't care. His heart was weary from travel and anxiety. He was ready to sleep, and planned on doing so for a long, long time.

The sound of hoofbeats tore him out of his daydreaming. He looked up and watched as the gatekeeper opened the gate, releasing a line of men and women on horseback. Orihime's eyes lit up- what teenaged girl didn't love seeing horses? Ichigo held his breath. Being on horseback gave them an advantage that he wasn't comfortable with letting them have so easily.

Urahara touched Ichigo's shoulder.

"May I introduce our so-called welcome committee. This is Binx," he began, pointing at a dark-skinned woman as she dismounted the black Arabian horse she rode. She was cat-like in appearance, with vibrant purple hair and delicate almond-shaped eyes. She was dressed for movement, Ichigo noted. Though there was a slight chill in the air, the woman wore a sleeveless black tank top and spandex pants tucked into her steel-toed boots. Intimidation rolled off of her.

"I'm the one he was talking to," the woman explained, a hand on her hip. "Yoruichi Shihouin. It's a pleasure, I suppose." She looked them over one by one, staring into their souls. Finally, she dropped her horse's reins, expecting her to stand still.

"And here we have White Mage, our medical director." Urahara focused their attention on a sweet looking woman on a bay Quarter Horse. She looked like a doctor. Her black hair was braided in front of her shoulders, and a smile seemed at home on her face.

The woman rode close before dismounting, handing the reins to Urahara. "It's good to see young faces. I'm afraid that's a rare sight around here." She smiled. "I'm Dr. Unohana. When your introductions are complete, I will take each of you to the medical building for a complete checkup. It's just a precaution."

Understandable. They hadn't eaten well. Hell, they'd gone days without food, and lived off of little water. None of them were looking particularly healthy, especially Uryuu. Always the fucking hero, the boy had been giving much of his share to the girls. Though Ichigo's ribs were readily visible, Uryuu looked like his ribs could slice meat. His face was sunken, and he looked as if remaining conscious was enough work for him.

"Here at Seireitei, we have a little bit of a so-called 'buddy system,'" Urahara began. "And that's because humans are dangerous at the best of times. So we'll send someone to interview you and match you with a buddy. They'll answer questions, help you out, and make sure that you're stable enough to stay," he said, voice calm and even.

Rukia looked around a bit. "If I may ask a question- why the nicknames?"

Yoruichi shrugged. "Familiarity. A radio handle in case we have two Joeys. Badassery."

Fair enough.

Without having to be prompted, Ichigo and the rest of the group followed the others up the hill. Unohana had remounted, and rode ahead, but Yoruichi brought up the rear, leading her horse by the cheekpiece of her bridle. There was a reason, Ichigo was sure, but he didn't quite care to ask.

"Why use horses? ATVs would be faster on this terrain," Rukia asked, turning toward Urahara. He shrugged.

"Ah, but those things aren't quiet. These also don't drain fossil fuels." He pat Unohana's horse's neck. "We can grow grass. It's slightly more difficult to grow gasoline," he chirped. "Besides, the virus doesn't attach to animals easily. Well, except for the monkey incident."

"Monkey incident?" Chad asked, brow raised.

"...Let's not make me relive that day, shall we?"

Their conversation was cut off by a surprised yell from Yoruichi, and the flash of black as her panicked horse hauled it back to the gate at a full gallop. Unohana was able to stay on as her own mount jigged nervously, crowhopping as his buddy ran past.

"The fuck was that?" Urahara asked sternly, turning back.

Oh. Fuck.

"Pussycat's back," Yoruichi deadpanned. Urahara groaned and hid his head in his hands.

"Ichigo. Whatever you do, do not panic," he said slowly, soothingly. "Just keep walking, and don't engage him."

That wasn't the way to keep someone calm. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Instead of obediently keeping his eyes in front of him, like the rest of the Karakura kids, Ichigo turned almost immediately, and the unadulterated fear flooded over his face.

What was approaching could not possibly be human. He walked with too much swagger to be dead, but Ichigo didn't want to ponder what kind of life could be fueling those wild eyes. It was interesting, in Ichigo's mind, that, of all the things wrong with the walking trainwreck fast approaching, he focused on his eyes.

His hair was an alarming shade of blue. His face was contorted into a sadistic grin, half-hidden by the disembodied jaw of another human being glued onto his chin. He dressed like some kind of soldier, covered in blood. The left sleeve was torn off, revealing that he'd somehow lost the limb. In its stead, he had crudely taped a goddamn hunting knife to the end of the stump. A katana was fastened to his waist, and in his good hand, he held a rusted chain.

On the other end of the chain walked a zombie, its mouth beaten past recognition and its arms crudely cut off at the elbow.

And Ichigo panicked.

"You asshole," he roared, turning toward Urahara. Catching the man off guard, he pushed him to the ground. "You're a fucking group of cannibals. Fuck you, we're leaving," he snarled.

"Not advisable," Yoruichi stated, voice low and tone undetectable. "It's far too dangerous out there to let you leave. Go past the red paint, and you'll be walker bait."

"We were just fine before we came here," Rukia retorted. Chad hushed her. Urahara rose to his feet and took Ichigo by the hand.

"Ichigo. Calm down. Nobody plans on eating you. They'd eat me first- I'm much fatter," he stated playfully.

To be honest, it wasn't Urahara that Ichigo was worried about. It was the fucking serial killer inching closer and closer. Urahara picked up easily on Ichigo's anxiety without needing to be told. Casually, he approached the blue-haired bastard, one hand on his hip.

"You know to drop your pets once you hit the red paint, Pussycat," he scolded. The crazy-looking motherfucker sighed and turned toward the mutilated zombie.

"But this one is so good," he complained loudly. His accent was strong- Rukia recognized it immediately as French Canadian. "Look at him wait so patiently."

The zombie took a step toward Uryuu, and that was all that it took. With no warning, Uryuu lifted his bow, loaded an arrow, and released it right into the corpse's skull.

"The fuck?" the man asked, an offended look on his face. "What if I wanted to save that for later?" He brought his face mere inches from Uryuu's, who merely grimaced at the smell.

"Disengage and go inside, Grimmjow," Yoruichi commanded.

Grimmjow stepped back, lip raised in a snarl. "Che. Besides.." He caught sight of Orihime and stepped closer, head cocked in interest. "This one's so much prettier, isn't she?"

"I'll go get The Warden," she warned. Grimmjow sighed, digging his toe in the dirt, and pushed past Uryuu before meandering up to the gate.

"Fuck you, too, Yoruichi."

When they arrived at the gate, Yoruichi's horse was waiting for them, as well as a couple of men who seemed to be serving as guards. One was feminine in appearance, black hair cropped short, though one long strand of braided hair fell to his collarbone. His gaze was intense as he watched the group enter the campus, and he turned to his companion.

"Why, look, Jenny. Perhaps they'll send you some of them to help lessen your workload?" His head lolled back playfully. "Eat another Twinkie and you won't be quick enough to roll yourself out of a bad situation."

The other man was far less pretentious-looking, and just gave off the 'I'm a douchebag' feeling. His hair was long and red, worn in tight dreadlocks and tied back and out of the way. His face, as well as much of his body, seemed to be covered in strange, tribal-like tattoos. Pointing his Twinkie dramatically at his companion, he said only "Shut your whore mouth," in an artificially thick Brooklyn accent.

Yoruichi looked less than amused. "Everyone, meet Magpie and Jenny from the Block. They're embarrassments," she shrugged.

The black-haired one, Magpie, looked offended. The red-head just took a bite of his sugary treat. "Yeah. But we're hot, so you keep us around."

Yoruichi slapped his chin. "We keep you around because you're fast and Magpie'll peck someone's eyes out. Oh. Renji, call The Last Unicorn to Squad Four. I told him he could have first pick of them."

The more she spoke, the more Ichigo really felt that they were going to be eaten.

"Are you going to clue us in on your lingo?" he asked lowly. Urahara shrugged.

"There's not much to know. There are thirteen 'squads,'" he explained, complete with air quotes. "But you'll learn more. I'm sure Fifth will send someone to give you the run-down. I think Momo made pamphlets."

At that point, all Ichigo wanted was to lie down.

The first thing that the medical team did was a very, very thorough exam for bites. Ichigo heard Rukia scream "Why would I have a zombie bite down there?" At that point, most of them had been so desensitized to human bodies that it made no difference as to where people poked and prodded. Rukia, however, still had some fight in her.

Ichigo watched as, one by one, the medical staff fixed the Karakura survivors up with IVs and banana bags, the latter to manage the terrible electrolyte imbalance they were all suffering. While they rested and took in the fluids, a kind nurse brought four trays of food- chicken noodle soup, wheat bread, and a cookie, plus a glass of milk.

"Wait. Hey, why doesn't he get anything?" Ichigo asked, sitting up on his cot and pointing at Uryuu. Unohana simply smiled as she prepared a mild protein drink made mostly of water, peanut powder, oil, and powdered milk.

"His body is too weak to handle too much food. He'll be staying here until he's stronger," she said, placing the shake by Uryuu's bed. The boy had fallen asleep in the time it had taken her to mix the drink, and she didn't feel that it was necessary to wake him.

"...Is he the worst you've seen?" he asked, watching Uryuu huddle under the thin wool blanket he'd been given.

Unohana smiled. "No. He's weak, and he'll need to stay here for a few days, but he's not the worst we've had walk out of here." She smoothed her hand over his hair. "Oh, speak of the devil, and he will come."

From the large window of the clinic, Ichigo saw a body gracefully dismount a horse and hand the reins off to a bystander. He stepped inside, flanked by that cocky redhead, and the once bustling room went silent.

Ice would shatter in the presence of this man's stare. He was no taller than Ichigo himself, but the length of his legs gave the illusion of extra inches. Black hair fell to his shoulders, straight and silky enough to suggest that Urahara had been right about the availability of showers. He wore a grey peacoat and black pants, complete with leather boots. Who knew that it was worth it to dress up during the zombie apocalypse? Ichigo felt underdressed. Was he even wearing underwear?

"Look and see him, how he sparkles. It's the last unicorn," Urahara sang, breaking the tense air.

Ichigo didn't know what he had expected this oddly well-groomed stranger to say. But in an odd twist of events, it was Rukia who was the first to make noise. The room was filled with the sounds of what seemed to be panic. She'd risen from her bed, pushed away her tray, and had launched herself at this new visitor. Urahara intercepted her, holding her tiny body around the waist and urging her to be still.

"Let go of me!" she screeched, kicking and clawing.

"Do as she says."

The man's voice made Ichigo weak. Urahara obeyed, rubbing his injured belly. Rukia stumbled forward, practically falling into the stranger's arms.

"Wha-?" Ichigo began, motioning at the display in front of him. Urahara put his hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon. Let's get you into the shower," he said softly, leading the redhead to the back.

In Chad's mind, there was no pleasure, no rapture, no exquisite sin greater than hot water. The water ran black for minutes straight. He could hear Orihime's laughter, and relieved sighs from Ichigo. After all, a mere rubber curtain separated each of them. Quarters were close, but entirely welcome.

Fresh clothes had been placed out for them. The clean cloth felt like heaven on their element-toughened skin. Chad watched as Rukia, who'd joined after a few minutes, helped Orihime braid her hair and pin it up. He watched as Ichigo looked off into the distance, watching as a nurse took on the arduous task of hand-bathing Uryuu.

"Told you there'd be showers," Urahara grinned, giving the teenagers a wink. "C'mon. We've got a little party to go to."

It wasn't a party. It was more like a cattle auction. They were taken to an old, small classroom. The seats were staggered like a lecture hall. Four chairs were lined up at the front. Ichigo's eyes narrowed as they were brought in and asked to take a seat. The classroom wasn't entirely full, but there were plenty of people in attendance. Some were recognizable, most weren't.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Urahara started, taking his place at the front of the room. "We have five newcomers to our lovely compound, etcetera, etcetera. You know how this works, kids." He gestured to Ichigo.

"This is Ichigo Kurosaki. He's seventeen. Skills inclu-"

"Wait, wait." Rukia interrupted. "Is this a dating show, a livestock auction, or something even more freaky? I just wanna make sure we're all on the same page," she stated, hands up in surrender.

Urahara chuckled. "Excuse my impatience. We've done this so often that I've forgotten what it's like to be the one in the front of the room. Who cares to clue them in? I can't do all the work here."

The man who stood was kind-looking, smile marked by crow's feet and the beginnings of wrinkles. His hair was long and white, and somehow off-set his scholarly appearance.

"We hold this meeting to assign you to a certain squad. Basically, that determines how you'll help out here. You'll also be assigned a bedroom and roommates."

That seemed to satisfy Rukia, who sat back and crossed her legs. "As long as nobody's trying to breed me."

Urahara turned back to the crowd with a slight grimace. "Thank you, Ukitake. Anyway. We have Ichigo Kurosaki. Seventeen. Uhh.. skills include keeping relatively sane and healthy through a damn zombie apocalypse for the better part of a year. You led the group, right, kiddo?" he asked.

Ichigo shrugged. It was clear that he was uncomfortable, but he wasn't the one in power. He was too tired to fight so many people if shit hit the fan. The apocalypse had taken so much out of his hands. He was insignificant; along for the ride. So he clenched his jaw and his fists, and unwillingly placed his trust in the council's hands.

"Six puts in a bid."

So it was an auction. It had been the man they'd met in the clinic- The Last Unicorn, they'd called him, right?

"Interesting. Anyone else counter Byakuya's bid?"

Silence. Urahara moved to open his mouth.

They were interrupted by the loud opening of the door, the handle slamming into the drywall. All eyes were on the entryway, some men standing in attention.

"Attaquons l´exercice pour défaire les Huns. M´ont ils donné leur fils? Je n´en vois pas un,"

Most of them relaxed, some even rubbing their heads in annoyance, once they realized who it was.

"How kind of you to join us, Grimmjow," Urahara deadpanned. Ichigo tensed.

It was the maniac from before. But.. he didn't look half as maniacal. He'd washed the blood off of his hands. His hair was clean and comically fluffy. The only word that came to mind when he saw the denim jacket he wore, missing arm tied off, was 'mom-ish.' There were no cadaver bits affixed to his body- at least, none where Ichigo cared to see.

"Grimmjow, do you care to put in a bid for Ichigo on behalf of the Tenth Squad?"

Grimmjow looked like a deer caught in headlights. "...Which one's that?" Urahara pointed.

"Fuck no," Grimmjow spat, crossing his.. stump.. under his arm. "Tenth ain't need no trainee fucking us up." He took a seat toward the back. Ichigo sneered in response, but said nothing.

A young man, short of stature and youthful of face stood. His hair was deceptively white, his expression starkly angry. "Grimmjow. Settle down." The room went quiet. Grimmjow didn't even hold his gaze.

"Yes sir, mister Warden, sir."

Urahara rubbed his face. "Let's get this done without any more interruptions, shall we? I'm hungry. Who seconds Ichigo's induction into the Sixth Squad?"

A few hands raised.

"Sweet. Ichigo, go sit with Jenny From the Block and The Last Unicorn."

Awkwardly, Ichigo made his way over to where Byakuya and his underling, Renji, sat.

The rest of the meeting went fairly smoothly. Ichigo had to restrain himself from crawling over rows of seats and desks and strangling Grimmjow, who kept flicking wads of paper at him. Was this high school? Chad was placed in the Seventh Squad, though Eighth had put in a bid, as well. Rukia had been snatched up by Ukitake, much to the council's surprise. They seemed to think that Byakuya would want her on his team, judging by their earlier display.

When Orihime was up, Ichigo could see the skepticism in everyone's eyes.

"Hey, red! Catch!" Grimmjow was quick to speak and quick to throw. Orihime didn't even have time to respond before a wad of paper hit her square in the nose.

"Four!" he called, one hand cupped around his mouth. The others agreed.

"We still have the issue of the sick one," Urahara stated. "Uryuu Ishida is seventeen, fluent in German, and an excellent marksman, as Grimmjow can attest to."

"Guy's a fuckface!" he snarled.

"But he hit that zombie from point blank range with a moment's notice. He's good with that bow, and you fucking know it," Ichigo snarled.

"Aw, did I insult your boyfriend?" Grimmjow countered in sing-song.

"No-"

"Now, now. I think this means we got an interestin' soul on our 'lil hands." The accent made Ichigo grimace. It was as hot and sticky as the south, and came from one of the more unsettling-looking men in the group. Eyes closed- or barely open- the silver-haired interjector seemed to stare into his soul nonetheless.

"Three wants 'im."

"Absolutely not." Byakuya interrupted. "That would be a waste of a good marksman, Gin, and you know it. Six places a bid."

A laugh. "You people have no sense of priority. Eleven." The vote came from Magpie, and was seconded by Grimmjow's keeper.

"Well, it's settled, then," Urahara stated, cracking his knuckles. "We begin at sunrise. Keep your minds open, and be ready."

"...That's what she said."

"Shut up, Grimmjow."


	5. On Walkabout: Grimmjow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Grimmjow's backstory!

Have you ever had a bad trip? No, not a bad time at the bar, or a little freak out while smoking weed. A real bad trip. Sweating, puking your guts out, wishing you were dead? 

For most people, that’s what the end of the world feels like. It happens too fast. There’s no time for anything to sink in, except for fear, adrenaline, and instinct. But for some, maybe it’s more like sobering up after a hard night of drinking, or when the hit wears off. Maybe the panic is habit, and it’s not hard to adapt when your nerves are more than familiar with the fight or flight response.

For Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez, the end of the world was like stepping into the sunlight after being locked in the dark for years. He didn’t know what day it was. His cell phone said it was 4pm, like that bore any consequence. Fuck, he didn’t know why he had the damn thing, anyway. It didn’t work. It didn’t even make the attempt to connect to anything. It was just dead weight in his back pocket, making his ass sweat in that one damn rectangular patch. 

How long had the world been over? Hard to say. He didn’t like to leave if it was at all possible. People were the scourge of the planet, in his eyes. Besides, who gave a shit? One day, he was trying to find a vein, syringe filled with heroin sitting between his teeth while Anaconda by Nicki Minaj played on the radio. The next, he was sitting in some redneck neighbor’s garage, driving nails through planks of wood while whistling Alouette. 

Despite popular belief, the apocalypse hit Canada just as hard as it had hit the United States, or the rest of the goddamn planet, for that matter. No, the cold didn’t stop the zombies. At most, it served as a speed hump. Though, Grimmjow didn’t really think that many zombies were roaming around the fucking arctic. And if they were? Fuck it, the polar bears would fuck them up and leave him out of it. The zombies wanted dinner, not manifest destiny.

It was human nature to group up. That didn’t mean, however, that Grimmjow had to like it. The man he’d ended up trailing behind him was an old classmate, a cute little thing named Yylfordt Granz. If Grimmjow was going to have a glorified meat shield following him around, it at least had to have a sweet ass.

“My brother is out there. He found a group of some kind.”

Grimmjow regarded his partner with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s your point?”

Yylfordt nibbled on the cracker in his hand. “We should join him. A group’s a good idea. More people, more protection, more--”

“More chances to get thrown to those damn human meat grinders roaming the streets. Less food. Less water. It’s a bad fucking idea, Yylfordt.” Grimmjow rested against the wall. They’d taken refuge in an old storage locker for the night. There wasn’t much, just a mattress and some canned food they’d dragged in. 

Without being invited, Yylfordt sat in Grimmjow’s lap, eyes shutting as he made himself comfortable in his partner’s lap. Hell, he would have fallen asleep like that, if his pillow would fucking hold still.

“Can you not, brother?” Yylfordt asked in exasperation, shoving his face further into Grimmjow’s chest.

“Zydrate comes in a little glass vial,” Grimmjow said softly.

“A little glass vial?” Yylfordt opened an eye.

“And the little glass vial goes into the gun like a battery.” Grimmjow was filling a needle with the unknown contents of some vial. Yylfordt rolled his eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“And the Zydrate gun goes somewhere against your anatomy.” He lined the needle up, leaning forward and nibbling on Yylfordt’s ear.

“And when the gun goes off, it sparks, and you’re ready for surgery.” Grimmjow injected himself with a relieved sigh. Yylfordt just resigned himself and turned.

“You aren’t getting any for weeks.”

Grimmjow’s first encounter with the rebel group known as the Arrancar hadn’t exactly been on a voluntary basis. It turned out that his little piece of ass’s brother had, in fact, found himself a cozy little bed among the crazy. You see, the Arrancar group were big subscribers to the theory of survival of the fittest. And in Grimmjow's humble opinion, Yylfordt wasn't exactly the fittest. Sure, he was hot, but the Arrancar didn't slow down. He wouldn’t be able to keep up forever.

Grimmjow had his qualms with the Arrancar. They weren’t a group. They were a pack of wolves. Grimmjow had learned to stop asking the leader, a man of low morals named Aizen, about where their dinner came from. Yylfordt, on the other hand, liked to open his mouth. 

See, Grimmjow wasn’t the kind to throw a man to the side of the road to die. It might have been kinder, given the circumstances. Yylfordt was slow. He was anemic and asthmatic. He had low blood pressure. All he had to fall back on was his wit and good looks. That didn’t work anymore. The zombies didn’t give a shit if he could sling words as well as he could sling his hips. All that mattered was whether or not he could run. But dammit, it was Grimmjow who picked him up, and it’d be Grimmjow who saw him through.

Grimmjow had his qualms with the Arrancar, but they kept him fed. 

 

“Do you know what we do to betrayers, Grimmjow?” Aizen’s tone was calm and even. They were alone. It was just him, Aizen, and Yylfordt.

Grimmjow clenched his jaw as the leader of the Arrancar ran his fingers along his cheek. “It’s a pity. You both were so pretty,” Aizen cooed, voice thick with fake sweetness. Yylfordt was huddled in the corner, pale body soaked with sweat. Blood trickled from his arm. 

He’d been bitten.

Sure, Grimmjow had seen it coming. That didn’t make it any easier. They had been out hunting. The zombie had snuck up on them while they stalked through the woods. Grimmjow hadn’t been able to react.

“It’s cute, how you wanted to stop me from killing him,” Aizen let go of Grimmjow’s face. “You just weren’t ready to say goodbye, were you?”

“He’s still alive,” Grimmjow spat.

“That he is.” Aizen stepped back. “But not for long. And I’m certain that you’re about to find out what it’s like to be locked in a room with one of those monsters.”

Grimmjow laughed bitterly. “Gotta be better than the monster I’m with right now.” He steeled himself against the punch to the gut that Aizen had delivered.

“Bon voyage,” Aizen smirked, locking the door behind him as he left.

Grimmjow closed his eyes, wiping the blood off of his lip. “Hanging in there?” he asked, voice quiet.

There was no response. Not even one of Yylfordt’s dumb little whimpers. It was nice. Grimmjow leaned against the cold wall, hand covering his eyes. He was fucking exhausted. Nobody had said that the apocalypse would be so damn draining.

A solitary window let in the light to just barely illuminate the shed they’d been locked in. When Grimmjow’s eyes opened again, not even the moon lit his way. 

But he heard growling. 

Grimmjow had been in bar fights before. He’d experienced drug deals gone wrong. But never before had he fought in such a manner. He kicked, clawed, snarled, punched, kicked.. anything he could do to keep the bloodlusting meatbag the fuck off of him. He rolled to his feet and slammed his entire upper body against the door. It fell right open, and Grimmjow had to mentally slap himself on the forehead. Aizen, in his infinite ego, had suspected that Grimmjow would assume that the door was locked, and would resign himself to that brain-eating life.

Fuck that. 

It wasn’t until he was headed back into the woods when he felt the blood drip down his left hand. His stomach dropped. He held it up to the starlight, and his vision dimmed momentarily as he realized that he’d been bitten. 

If surviving the apocalypse had taught Grimmjow Jaegerjacques one thing, it was that he had no interest in snacking on the living. So, without giving it a second thought, he hauled ass back to the shed. Would this work? Maybe. But this was his only option. If it didn’t work, at least he could say that he tried. Grimmjow threw open the door, shoving Yylfordt to the ground in the process. He grabbed a hatchet off of the wall and turned around, shutting the door behind him. Hell, Yylfordt was still on the fucking floor.

Being an ex-druggie had its perks. Grimmjow had the mind to tighten his belt around his bicep. His veins popped up like spring daisies-- was that the right imagery? Fuck it. Maybe he just wanted to think of something pretty before he hacked his fucking arm off. He steeled himself, gritted his teeth, and..

“Ikkaku, come quick!” 

Leaves crunched under their boots. Ikkaku looked down to see the trail of blood that he and Yumichika had following for a while. They’d been on a routine scouting mission, but the droplets of blood had caught their attention. It could have been from a deer, shot by a hunter and about ready to keel over. Or, if Yumichika had been right, it could have spelled their certain doom.

When he finally caught up to his partner, Ikkaku wasn’t really sure what he was looking at. They’d never encountered anything of the sort. 

They’d been right about the blood being inhuman. It belonged to a wild pheasant. Its killer sat against the bark of a pine tree, plucking off its feathers. He saw them. There was no way that he didn’t. He was staring right at them, singing that stupid nursery rhyme that every French-speaking child learned.

“Alouette, gentille alouette. Alouette, je te plumerai.”

Yumichika rubbed his forehead. “You have to be shitting me.” 

Above the one-armed hunter’s head was a chain. The chain was long and rusted, probably having belonged to a dog at one point. On the other end of the chain was a long-turned zombie, long blonde hair tangled and patchy. Its teeth had been painstakingly removed, as had its hands. It stood calmly, not bothering to lunge for its keeper or the pair of intruders. 

Grimmjow knew how this had to look. He was in blood-soaked clothing, preparing a wild bird with one hand and a still-sore stump, with a zombie chained to the tree behind him. He didn’t even pause as he continued plucking, refusing eye contact with either man-- wait, was that one a man? Whatever he was, Grimmjow didn’t look at him directly.

“If you walk with zombies, they think you’re one of them.” He flipped the animal over. “Like my arm? Did it myself.” He waved his stump proudly. 

Ikkaku groaned internally. He was probably an Arrancar. He was probably batshit insane. But he was too damn close to camp to let stay where he was…

“We’ve got a camp. Wanna come back with us?” He ignored the elbow Yumichika dug into his ribs.

Grimmjow shrugged. “One question. Do you have hair dye? My roots have grown out.” He ran a bloody hand through his blue locks, showing off blonde roots.

“I’ve never had the need,” Ikakku grumbled. “But I’m sure we can figure something ou--”

“There you are.”

Ikkaku and Yumichika turned. There stood their leader for the day, Toshiro Hitsugaya, Tenth Squad captain and bossy pain in the ass. Even in his thick-soled workboots, he stood no taller than Yumichika’s collarbone, but the sour expression on his face really brought home the ‘authority’ act he was playing. He was interesting. So Grimmjow made eye contact. Hitsugaya’s eyes widened in response as he took in the sight laid out before him. 

“State your name.”

Grimmjow leaned back against the tree. “Kiss my ass.” 

“Your name, or a bullet in your head.”

Ooh. Grimmjow licked his lips. “Jaegerjacques. Doesn’t roll off your little American tongue, does it? Call me Grimmjow.”

“You’re coming with us.” Hitsugaya’s eyes flicked toward the zombie. “Waste the toy.” 

Grimmjow looked back at Yylfordt lazily. “He’s fine,” he stated with a shrug. “I’d prefer to keep him.”  
Without another thought, Hitsugaya raised his side-arm and delivered two bullets into the skull of the walking corpse in front of him. He’d barely holstered the gun when he found himself on the ground, the wind knocked out of him, a very angry amputee in front of him.

“You do not touch what is mine,” he snarled, face mere inches from Hitsugaya’s. Ikkaku pulled him off more easily than Grimmjow had expected-- damn, was he that weak? He must have still been recovering from lost blood and lost weight. And those fuckers had interrupted his meal, hadn’t they?

“He’s burning up,” Yumichika noted, helping Ikkaku hold Grimmjow up. “Do you think he’s been bitten?”

Hitsugaya looked down. Grimmjow’s stump was wrapped in a blood-soaked button-up. He peeled it away carefully, ignoring the French-sounding curses and struggles from their captive. “No,” he stated, revealing the clearly infected stump. “I’d imagine this has something to do with it. Get Unohana on standby. What the hell did you do this with, a boxcutter?” he asked in disbelief, looking over the wound. 

“A hatchet. Now let me see yours. And that knife, while you’re at it.”

Hitsugaya looked wary. 

“What the fuck am I gonna do? Try to fucking take you down with a hatchet and a hunting knife? You have a fucking gun, and I have a chicken wing.” 

Hitsugaya surrendered the items, though kept a hand on his pistol. He watched in curiosity.. and then rampant disgust as Grimmjow hacked the jaw off of his undead companion. 

“It’s a.. shit, how do you say it in English? Momentum?”

“Memento?” Yumichika offered, brow raised.

“Fuck you.” 

It was clear as they began to walk that Grimmjow wasn’t nearly as strong as he thought he was. By the time they were halfway up the hill, he was subconsciously leaning on Ikkaku. By the time they were three quarters of the way up, his arm was around Ikkaku’s neck. And by the time he could see Seireitei’s gates, he was in Ikkaku’s arms.

Hitsugaya watched as, as soon as they were through the gate, Unohana helped load him onto a gurney. 

“My, my. Looks like we have a backyard surgeon,” she said softly, rubbing Grimmjow’s uninjured shoulder as he writhed on the stretcher. “Easy, easy.” She looked at Ikkaku. “Are you going to take him on, Mr. Madarame?”

“Fuck that,” Ikkaku laughed. “Give him to Renji. Or that new girl-- Rangiku, right?” 

“I’ll take him.” 

All eyes turned to Hitsugaya. 

“If you’re sure,” Yumichika chuckled skeptically. “This man is psychotic.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Hitsugaya said firmly. He met Grimmjow’s fading gaze, and as they wheeled him into the Fourth Squad’s clinic, he snatched and pocketed the dismembered jaw that Grimmjow was clutching to his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

The saline flowing through his veins was warm. The pillow against the back of his head was comfortable. The harsh fluorescent light was familiar and welcome, though it burned as he opened his eyes. He could hear the soft sounds of activity and soothing pop music. It made it seem like the zombie apocalypse had been no more than a dream. He was finally waking up.

Nobody bothered him. Not at first. They let him blink back to reality. His hair fell into his eyes, still greasy and matted down with dirt and whatever else he'd managed to roll in. He felt around for his glasses, and was surprised to find them on the tray in front of him, clean and adjusted.

"Good morning, Uryuu."

The speech made him freeze. Dr. Unohana approached slowly, not wanting to move too quickly for him. She'd seen what he'd done to Grimmjow's pet zombie. She didn't need to agitate him.

"Woher wissen Sie meinen Namen?" he asked lowly.

"I don't speak German, dear. Can you rephrase?" she asked casually, handing him some unidentifiable slurry of nutritional powders. He took it without much thought, though he didn't drink it. Not yet. It sat in his hands, room-temperature and looking like it tasted like ass.

"...What happened?" he asked. "Where am I?"

"You're in our clinic. You're at Seireitei, remember? Have a drink. You must be hungry." Unohana was calm, turning away to dig through cabinets to find him something to wear.

So he hadn't been dreaming. The zombie apocalypse had actually happened. God, it was all sinking in. Before, he hadn't had time to process anything. He was too busy fighting for survival, or for his next meal. This was absolutely ridiculous. The dead had come back to life and were feasting upon the living. Humanity- the single greatest force on the planet- had fallen to those who moved at shuffling speed.

Uryuu couldn't help it. He laughed.

It was a raw laugh, centered deep in his chest. Unohana turned to him with a curious expression. Wordlessly, she dropped a pair of sweatpants and tanktop on his bed. She knew better than to ask questions. When she was gone, his laughter calmed. He laid back against the bed, the cup of slurry still in his hand. He heard the bubbly, twinking music in the distance. He recognized it. He stared up at the light fixture, watching a fly buzz against the sterile white lightbulbs.

"Nobody knows where they might end up. Nobody knows.."

They let Uryuu go that next morning. There wasn't much else that they could do for him. A square meal and a good night's rest was all that he needed. A woman met him outside of the clinic. She was far too perky for his tastes, and closely resembled one of the University representatives that would visit Karakura High, with all of the packets and brochures she was holding. The cloth-covered bun firmly secured to the back of her head bounced as she stepped close. He regarded her wearily. Tired or not, he knew how to run from zombies and salesmen.

"Hi! You must be Uryuu. The other people from your group told me a lot about you!" Hn. Not likely. "I'm Momo Hinamori. I'm a representative for Squad Five." She smiled and offered him a brochure. "I've arranged some literature for you. This brochure outlines the thirteen Squads here." She handed him another. "And this one outlines our facilities. Oh, and this one-"

"What makes you think I am very interested in staying here?" he deadpanned.

Momo looked taken aback. "Well.. you don't want to leave your friends behind, do you? I'm sure they'd miss you?"

He gave a dry laugh. "Not in the least."

"Well, then consider your safety! We take all of the precautions in the world, and it's still unsafe." The conversation seemed to be upsetting her. "Besides, you're in no condition to travel. Please- we take care of everyone here."

He pushed his glasses up on his nose. This was getting him nowhere. As if on cue, he saw a small huddle of people draw nearer. Irritation settled in his heart as he realized that he recognized most of the faces in the swarm.

Renji was in the front, jawing off in that thick New York accent he possessed. It was amazing, really, the types of people who had made it to Seireitei. Renji was from New York. That one-armed bastard had a French accent. That represented Survival of the Fittest pretty well, in his mind. That, or there was a God guiding them to salvation.

Hah.

"And here we've got Momo. She talks a lot," Renji said jovially, pointing at the girl with his lit cigarette. He laughed as she attacked him with an envelope, beating him over the head and displacing a few dreadlocks. "Just spittin' truth, Momo!" he grinned, tapping his cigarette before grasping it between his teeth and fixing his hair.

"You shouldn't embarrass me in front of new members," she grumbled, face flushed.

"Aw, c'mon, Momo. All work and no play makes Renji hostile." He took his sunglasses off and placed them on top of his head. "We've gotta prove we're normal somehow."

Normal. That was what they were calling it. Uryuu sat on the sidewalk, too tired to keep standing for an extended period of time. He'd live, of course, but he was still quite malnourished. His change of position seemed to pull them out of their banter. Momo rushed over and crouched beside him, while Renji placed a hand on his hip and looked him over.

"You okay over there?" he asked, heavily tattooed brow raised.

Uryuu nodded. "Just tired."

Renji nodded in understanding. Uryuu was pushing himself more quickly than even Byakuya had, and Byakuya'd moved at a borderline dangerous pace. "Wanna join us for the tour?" he asked, keeping his tone upbeat. It was a formality.

"No. Not if it can be helped. I will show myself around."

"Suit yourself," Reji said with a shrug, waving the crowd on. "Alright. C'mon, guys. I'll show you where the science nerds hang out."

As they continued down the road, Uryuu tried to ignore the way Ichigo hung back and stared at him for a moment before catching up. Since when did Ichigo give a shit about him? Momo looked at him with the same sympathy in her eyes, and it made him uncomfortable. He hated this kind of attention. Sure, he'd been a flashy dresser in high school, and he'd been a know-it-all, but he didn't like being treated like a child. He fiddled with his glasses.

"I can take you to your room, if you like," she offered. He nodded.

The dorms were laid out in suites. There were three bedrooms to a suite, as well as a small living area and a shared bathroom. Was it comfortable? Well, millions of college students had done it for years at a time. In the face of the apocalypse, the dorm was a castle. Momo told him that his roommates were named Ikkaku, Yumichika, and Rangiku. He'd met them already, she swore.

"Well, maybe you've already met Yumichika. Don't worry. You'll like them. They're all very friendly." He could tell by her expression that she was stretching the truth a little bit. "Ikkaku and Yumichika are a couple. Seireitei hooked them up," she giggled. "They're also in your Squad. You were put into the Eleventh Squad. Your friend Ichigo really stuck up for you."

Uryuu sat on the bed. "Squad?"

"Read the pamphlets."

Fair enough. "And Ichigo is not a friend."

Momo tsked. "He sure seemed like it. He wasn't going to let them under-appreciate your marksmanship, that's for sure. Oh well. I'll let you settle in. Just call the Fifth Squad office if you need to. Isn't it cool that we got phone service working?" she chirped as she left, shutting his bedroom door behind her.

Uryuu laid back on his semi-comfortable twin bed, eyes closed and glasses immediately placed onto the bedside table. A nap was in order. Several naps were in order. The longer he could stay away from people.. away from the Karakura group.. the better.

With only brief interludes to use the restroom or snack on some water and peanut butter crackers he'd found in the cabinet, Uryuu slept straight through to the next morning. And when he finally rose, he felt amazing. His anxiety had quelled. His hunger had settled. He was able to enjoy his shower. Hot water was such a blessing. He was even able to smile as he tucked his overgrown bangs behind his ears.

"Looks like someone's all bright and perky."

Uryuu turned to face the source of the interjection. There stood Yumichika, who he recognized from the gate. With him was an unfamiliar face, a bald man with a sour expression on his face. If he could guess by the arm wrapped around Yumichika's waist, that was his partner. Ikkaku, right? He could barely be assed to remember names.

"Get changed. I have some clothing that should fit you. You're so tiny. I'm jealous," Yumichika winked.

As soon as Uryuu was decent enough to be out in public, Yumichika led him out of the dorm building. They began a leisurely stroll around the campus, with Yumichika pointing out various landmarks. The food service building. The clinic, which Uryuu had already acquainted himself with. The labs, and the old class buildings. The offices for each of the Squads. The road that led to the gate.

"And this is the farm."

The school had been home to a thriving agricultural program. The men and women of Seireitei had expanded the land and planted a huge variety of crops. Uryuu could even make out a vineyard. There were four barns scattered around. The closest one was flanked by an indoor riding arena, as well as an enormous outdoor arena and vast grazing pastures.

There were two riders in the outdoor arena. It had been basically turned into an equestrian obstacle course. There were poles to weave in and out of, barrels, tarps, goddamn archways with pool noodles hanging from them.. everything they could pack into the arena and still have room to ride.

A woman steered her horse to the fence. She was beautiful, Uryuu noted. Her strawberry blonde hair was cropped short, but curled slightly at the ends. There was a mole near her bottom lip, and- Jesus, how was she sitting upright with those breasts? Even Orihime's hadn't been so big!

"Well, hey there!" she called out, Southern drawl as thick as whipping cream. "I haven't seen you 'round these parts before. When'd you roll in?" She dropped her reins, and the stocky bay Quarter Horse she rode stood still.

"This is Uryuu. He's one of mine," Yumichika explained. "...What is that beast you're riding?" He gestured at her mount, eyes scanning over its muscular body. Too muscular, if you asked him.

"Dammit, not everyone can have a Thoroughbred, Yumichika," she sighed in exasperation. "This is what a good Quarter Horse looks like. This is.. aw shit. Gin! What's this one called?" she yelled out.

The other rider in the arena slowed his horse to a walk and approached the fence. "Uhh.. that's Zaraki's horse. We call him Moshpit because the name Zaraki gave him'll burn virgin ears." Gin's accent was as strong as Rangiku's, but held a heavy Cajun influence. Gin was unsettling, with unnaturally silver hair and squinted eyes.

"You're in Eleven, right kid?" Gin asked Uryuu, who nodded hesitantly. "C'mere. Gotta see how you are on horseback."

Uryuu didn't like this idea. But he climbed over the low fence, and Yumichika did the same. Gin handed him the reins of the tall, black horse he'd been riding. He took a moment to adjust the stirrups and the girth of the heavy Western saddle he'd been using.

"You ever ridden before?" Gin asked. Uryuu responded with a nod.

"Nearly every child in my part of Germany le-"

"I didn't ask for your life story. I asked if you could ride. Now. This guy's named Senbonzakura. He's Byakuya's horse," he explained, crouching down on one knee, offering his thigh for Uryuu to use as an impromptu mounting block. The horse stood still as Uryuu mounted awkwardly. It had been years since he'd seen life from between a horse's ears.

"Loose rein. Walk a lap," Gin instructed.

Uryuu forced himself to relax. He let his shoulders roll back, and adjusted his glasses nervously. The horse had a huge stride, which made him feel faster than he was. After he'd walked a lap, he looked at Gin with apprehension in his eyes, bracing himself for what came next.

"Take the slack out of the reins and give him a tap with your calves. He should roll right up."

Roll right up? What the hell was Gin talking about? Deciding that he was in no position to defy him, he tightened his reins a bit and kicked Senbonzakura lightly. It was like shifting gears on a car. The horse sped up into a long, loose walk, head shaking.

"Yeah, feels good, don't it? You were expecting a trot, ain'tcha? Sixth Squad uses gaited horses. They're easier to ride for long periods of time, and they're lucky I know how to work 'em. Not like anyone really cares. That's called a flatwalk. Y'all can slow to a stop now. Dunno 'bout y'all, but I could go for some lunch."

Uryuu was all too eager to hop down and hand his reins off.

There was one question that had been weighing on Rukia's mind ever since she saw Byakuya safe and alive in the clinic. She'd wanted to wait until they were alone to ask- even simple questions could trigger high emotions. Byakuya had ever been an emotional man. But Rukia had never held a gun before. People changed. The apocalypse seemed to have that kind of effect on them.

Their suite was shared with Renji. It was good for Rukia that the man was never actually in the dorm unless he was sleeping. That was a common trait among Seireitei's citizens, she noticed. Maybe it was because sleeping drug up painful memories? She knocked gently on Byakuya's door. He responded a mere moment later, and opened it for her.

"Is everything alright, Rukia?" he asked, brow raised.

"Where's Hisana?" She hadn't meant it to come out so quickly. She could see his expression darken. He turned and sat on his bed, motioning for her to close the door behind her. Renji was out completing his shift at the gate, but he didn't want to take any chances.

Seconds passed in agony as Byakuya gathered his thoughts. "...She's gone," he stated softly, but firmly. "She couldn't make the trip. I lost her near the Iowa-Nebraska border." And that was all he was willing to say.

Without a word, Rukia sat beside him. She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at the floor. Hisana had been Byakuya's wife. She had been one of the good ones. There wasn't a person alive she wouldn't welcome into her home or lend a hand to. Nobody could have asked for a better sister-in-law. Rukia looked up at Byakuya, hoping to see some kind of emotion on his face. She didn't. As the tears began to flow from her eyes, he smoothed out his clothing and stood. The only noise in the room came from Rukia, and was joined by the soft 'click' of the door as Byakuya exited.

Never before had she cried so hard.

Ukitake had proposed that they honor the arrival of their newest addition. And so they did. Gin was manning a grill. Tables were set up with drinks and snacks. It had been months since the Karakura kids had tasted cold liquids of any kind- even the water from the nearby creek had been lukewarm at best. Orihime picked up a glass of iced ginger ale, and sighed in pleasure as she held the frosted glass against her neck. It wasn't even that hot, even for Southern California. It was December, after all.

"Food's up, y'all!" Gin called. A crowd formed for hotdogs, hamburgers, and chicken.

"Farm fresh," he mentioned to Orihime with a wink as he dropped a hotdog on her plate. She gave a vaguely disgusted look at her food, but wandered off anyway.

"Alright, kiddos," Urahara called out, grinning like a maniac. "How about some party games? C'mere. All of you." He stood from a circle of men and women who'd gathered off to the side of the courtyard, partially hidden under a dogwood tree. Ichigo saw the bottle of flavored vodka and the red solo cups distributed among them.

Rukia looked at Urahara as if he was crazy when he poured the vodka to the first line on a cup and handed it to her. "I'm too young to drink," she stated plainly.

"This is Seireitei. Those rules don't apply anymore. C'mon, join the crowd."

Urahara. Ichigo. Orihime. Chad. Rukia. Byakuya. Renji. Shuuhei. Ikkaku. Yumichika. Uryuu. Hitsugaya. Grimmjow. Some sad-looking blonde that Ichigo didn't recognize. Rangiku. Gin. The whole crowd was in attendance, and each one of them had a cup in front of him.

"This game is called 'Never Have I Ever.' It's a great icebreaker," Urahara explained. "We go around the circle. We'll demonstrate one round, but you'll take a shot if you've done what we say. Like.. never have I ever braided my hair."

All of the girls, plus Byakuya and Yumichika raised their hands.

"Okay. Your turn, Ichigo."

Ichigo's eyes widened. Why was he being put on the spot, and not Gin? He looked around, then down into his cup of vodka. "Uhh.. never have I ever had vodka."

The crowd erupted in laughter, and just about everyone except for the Karakura kids took a shot. Orihime, Chad, and Rukia all had similarly innocent statements. Some of them became more aimed toward certain people, depending on whose turn it was. 'Never have I ever been thrown from a pony,' for example. Rangiku gave the middle finger as she drank on that one. Or 'never have I ever had a crush on anyone in this circle' from Urahara. The gossip wheel turned as Renji, Shuuhei, and Izuru took shots.

"You did this to get us all drunk, Urahara," Hitsugaya blamed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, Byakuya?"

"Never have I ever thought that using Molotov cocktails on zombies was a bright idea."

Grimmjow and Renji drank with bitter expressions.

"Wait, why is it a bad idea?" Ichigo asked, looking around the circle.

"Zombies don't feel anything," explained the mysterious, depressed-looking blonde. "Light them on fire, and they're just.. zombies on fire. Walking torches."

"It was all Renji's fault," Grimmjow stated, raising his hand and pointing at the redhead.

"Dude, way to throw it all on me, Mr. 'Look-I-Have-Vodka-And-A-Lighter." Renji wrinkled his nose at Grimmjow. "Fine. I've got a good one." He looked right at Grimmjow. "Never have I ever eaten a person."

The circle went quiet. Ichigo felt his stomach churn, and looked around in genuine horror. The others from Karakura seemed to mirror his sentiments, but the looks on Seireitei's more tenured residents ranged from acceptance to amusement.

"...Shuuhei, put your damn cup down," Hitsugaya ordered in exasperation. "He means 'eaten human,' not 'eaten pussy.'" He rolled his eyes. Shuuhei lowered his cup.

It was Grimmjow who drank from the cup, taking a shot with a hiss. "Oh, don't give me that look, mon petit," he sneered, motioning at Ichigo with his cup. "Someone make sure he hasn't shit himself. I'm not dealing with that today."

Urahara placed a hand on Ichigo's shoulder. "Not making a good 'we're sane' argument, am I?" he asked with a chuckle. "Ichigo. Grimmjow was part of a rogue group called the Arrancar before we found him. He did what he had to to survive. We don't fault him for that," he said softly, rubbing Ichigo's back. "We don't care what happened before you arrived. We will support you nonetheless. Like this. Shuuhei, ask it."

Shuuhei nodded, running his fingers along the scar on his face.

"Never have I ever killed the living."

Rangiku drank. So did Gin and Hitsugaya. Yumichika leaned against Ikkaku before downing the contents of his cup. Ichigo watched in shock as Urahara brought his drink to his lips. But there sat Grimmjow, moving to lay himself across the laps of Rangiku, Izuru, and Hitsugaya.

"The living can be more dangerous than the dead," Hitsugaya stated, absentmindedly smoothing down Grimmjow's wild hair. "Have you considered that, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo stammered. "It's just.. we never considered it." They never needed to. All things considered.. they'd been lucky. They hadn't done a lot of moving around. They'd met others, sure, but it was too early for them to become that desperate. Ichigo wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the situation he was in, but he felt sick.

"Well, consider it, Creampuff," Grimmjow stated, rolling to bury his face in Hitsugaya's lap. "Otherwise you're in for a shitty road."

Urahara sighed. These games were a test. The world had changed. Was Ichigo and his little group of friends ready for it? Well, they had survived long enough out there. He needed to take them each for a spin.. and he'd start with Ichigo. The boy seemed pretty damn bent on holding onto his humanity. But in this new, tempestuous world, ruled by the dead.. would that do him any good? Or would it make him too vulnerable?

He'd think about it more in the morning. But while he had food in his belly, and liquor in his hand, he was going to enjoy the night.

"I am a poor wayfaring stranger," Urahara sang softly.

"..Travelling through this world of woe." Yoruichi joined from outside the circle, her hand on Urahara's shoulder. Grimmjow and Hitsugaya started a round, softly echoing after them.

Izuru closed his eyes. "But there's no sickness,"

"Toil," Renji and Byakuya sang on top of one another.

"Or danger," Yumichika interjected.

Rangiku finished the verse. "In that bright land to which I go."

Ichigo knew this song. He'd heard the school choir sing it a long time ago… at a Christmas concert, maybe? He recalled one line, and one line only.

"I'm going there to see my mother. She said she'd meet me when I come." Urahara rubbed his back.

"I'm only going over Jordan. I'm only going over home." Uryuu's voice was barely audible. His accent was too strong and his voice was too quiet. But Ichigo heard it, and for a brief second, their eyes met.

Ichigo broke the gaze.


	7. Chapter 7

Safety in numbers was true, to an extent. However, when it came to going on supply runs, it was much wiser to take a smaller group, avoid bottlenecking, and increase speed. At least, that was what Ichigo had gathered from his walk down to the gate with Urahara. A group had gathered, backpacks on and horses tacked.

"Uryuu will stay here," Urahara commanded, holding a clipboard. "We'll have no need for a marksman out in the thick of it. You'll stay here with Soi Fon."

Uryuu's lips pursed. He was being left out. Again. When was he going to say that was new?

"Orihime isn't fit for any type of combat, so she will be remaining in Squad Four, helping the nurses." Okay, so Uryuu didn't feel as bad about himself. He wasn't the only one being caged inside the compound, and at least his job was just as much offensive as it was defensive. He'd just have to remember to bring a book of Sudoku puzzles.

"Chad. Go with Captain Kyoraku, raid the old used car dealership for anything you can make out with. Rukia, your brother is going to take you out to the old nursery to see if we can find some seeds. It should be an easy trip." Urahara turned slowly to Ichigo, trying to keep a pleasant face and not grimace.

"Ichigo, you will be accompanying Grimmjow to the grocery store to see if you can scrounge anything off of the floor," he stated.

Ichigo regarded him with disgust and distrust, but that was gentle compared to Grimmjow's blatant hostility.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" he demanded. "I work my ass off for you people, and this is how you repay me? Shit," he cursed, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Urahara seem unphased.

"Grimmjow, it was either you, or Renji. Renji went last time, and the Target was busier than Black Friday in Los Angeles. Tit for tat, right?" Urahara handed them each one empty backpack, two water bottles and two protein bars in the front pockets.

"I'll show you tit," Grimmjow grumbled, taking the bookbag and throwing it over his shoulder. He fell in line as they filtered out of the gate, and looked back at Urahara.

"Hey. Where's my damn horse? Everyone else gets one!"

Urahara rose an eyebrow. "This is a foot mission, Grimmjow. It's only three miles away."

"And I want my fucking horse," he snarled. "I'm not walking with this moron. I need to be in and out, as quickly as possible."

Everybody knew better than to argue with Grimmjow. A pissy Grimmjow was an unsafe Grimmjow. So, after the others had already started their missions, Gin brought by two horses- Grimmjow's Thoroughbred, and a bay Paint horse. The name 'IZURU' was penned over the halter of the second horse.

"There's one problem," Ichigo muttered as Grimmjow climbed onto his horse- and fairly easily, for a man with one arm. Slipping his feet into the stirrups and loosening his reins, he looked down at the redhead.

"What, can't ride a horse?" Grimmjow teased.

"No. I can't."

Grimmjow's face fell. "Dude, you just hop up and balance. It's fucking easy."

"I don't think now's the time for a riding lesson," Urahara interrupted. "Grimmjow. Sit forward," he insisted, pushing on Grimmjow's back. "Gin, take Izuru's horse back to the stable. Ichigo, come here. You're going to ride double."

"...Excuse me?"

Not a word was spared between the two of them for the entire duration of the trip. Grimmjow stared along angrily, white-knuckling his reins. One of Ichigo's arms rested at his side. The other awkwardly held onto the back of Grimmjow's shirt.

"Don't get too comfortable back there," Grimmjow spat. His stump was limp at his side, his hand holding the reins loosely.

"I think we have two very different definitions of 'comfortable,'" Ichigo grumbled.

The silence was stifling as they plodded along, with Ichigo choosing to count hoofbeats while Grimmjow tried to identify plants in the distance. It was awfully lush, given how close they were to the city. He closed his eyes, feeling the cool breeze on his face. A shiver ran up his spine, strong enough for even Ichigo, with his loose grip on the back of his shirt, to feel.

"...What was that?" Ichigo asked, leaning forward to try to see Grimmjow's face.

Grimmjow waved his stump as dismissively as he could. "Mind your own business," he snapped, giving the horse a light kick to encourage him to pick up pace. He needed off of this ride, damn it. The faster they got there, the better off they'd be. Well, that needed rephrasing. Grimmjow did not like to play with others. The faster he ditched Kurosaki, the better off he'd be. The thought crossed his mind… just leaving Ichigo where the others wouldn't find him. But Urahara seemed to like this one. Urahara had at least earned some of Grimmjow's respect. He'd keep him alive this time, he decided.

"...Why do they call you Pussycat?" Ichigo asked. Spending this trip in silence was just going to make them both miserable. He had to see which was worse- sitting in quiet terror with Grimmjow, or making conversation with him.

Grimmjow set his jaw. "They don't. It's Panthère," he corrected shortly. Though, the fact that he responded at all was a miracle. "Those Anglophones just don't like to put forth effort."

Shit, was this just going to be just like carrying a conversation with Uryuu, wasn't it? 'Blah blah, Americans have egos bigger than their waistlines, blah.' Uryuu was at least German. Grimmjow was French. Well, French-Canadian. Was there a difference? Neither really had a fondness for America. At least he was having this debate internally, and not out loud. The ground looked hard, and he wanted to keep his place away from it, if at all possible.

The metal clacking of the horse's shoes kept perfect four-beat time. They were within city limits by that point. It was time for Ichigo to press his limits, to see just how far he could push Grimmjow.

"What happened to your arm?"

Grimmjow threw his weight back, and the horse practically skidded to a halt. He turned almost completely in his saddle, rage in his eyes. Ichigo responded with a sneer of his own. The tension appeared to be choking the both of them. Grimmjow couldn't tell if he liked it or not, having someone refuse to yield to him. It was unsettling.

"Ever been bitten by a walker?" Grimmjow asked, turning around and kicking the horse forward. "I didn't think it'd work. I didn't know how that shit works, how quickly it spreads through your body. But, I guess it did something. I haven't started eating you." Though, the thought was tempting.

The outside of the grocery store was.. more orderly than Ichigo had expected. Grimmjow kicked both feet out of the stirrups and swung down. Ichigo, balance shaken, fell onto his ass with an 'umph.'

"Crétin," Grimmjow muttered, tying the horse to the bike rack just outside of the automatic doors. If they had to bolt, they could do so easily. Ichigo picked himself up wordlessly, dusting off and jogging after his reluctant companion for the day.

They were both silent as Grimmjow approached the door. It didn't budge. He pushed on it. It didn't budge. Ichigo watched, posture awkward as Grimmjow attempted to pry the doors apart with his hand. When that failed, he pulled a knife out of his boot and slid the blade between the resistant hunks of metal and glass.

"I could just-"

"You can shut the fuck up, is what you could do," Grimmjow snapped. He got a little bit of leverage, shifted his feet.. and the doors whisked open.

"Fuck that, I can do anything," Grimmjow sang to himself, giving his knife a flip and sliding it back into his boot. He motioned for Ichigo to follow him, waving his stump energetically. Ichigo just groaned as he slipped his backpack off of one shoulder, holding it so that he could easily stuff things inside.

It was fairly empty. Of course it was. It was a fucking grocery store. It smelled of rotted meat and dairy, and Ichigo could hear the annoying buzzing of flies. He watched as Grimmjow disappeared into the aisles, searching for anything that they could take back with them. A few dented cans.. a couple of loose protein bars.. barely enough to add weight to Grimmjow's backpack.

"Why don't we check the backroom?" Ichigo suggested, slipping a bag of flour into his bag.

Grmmjow regarded him as if he'd just suggested that they go outside, buck-ass naked, and scream to attract some zombies. "You think everyone on the planet didn't think to check the backroom? 'Employees only' doesn't mean a damn thing if the apocalypse is happening," he hissed, waving him off. "We'll just have to take back what we- Hey. Hey, Kurosaki! You fuck, I'm talking to you!"

Grimmjow stomped after Ichigo, who had broken away and burst through the doors to the backroom. It was mostly empty, yes, but-

"What's that?" Ichigo insisted, pointing at a few pallets of boxes, shot up high, away from eye level. Bemusement twitched a blue eye.

"Probably paper plates. Do you need a lifetime supply of plastic cutlery, Kurosaki?" he snarked, looking up at it.

Ichigo simply rolled his eyes. "Let's find out what's in 'em. There's gotta be a ladd- woah!"

Within seconds, Grimmjow was halfway up the scaffolding, surprisingly agile with one arm. His stump appeared long enough to hold his weight. He looked down at the ground with a triumphant grin. He sliced through the shrinkwrap with that damn boot knife, and threw down a few boxes.

"Careful!" Ichigo scolded, narrowly missing a box of deodorant.

"Then don't stand where I'm throwing!" Grimmjow retorted, aiming the next box at Ichigo's feet.

Most of the boxes were fairly useless. Food that was no longer safe to eat, napkins… things that wouldn't do present-day humanity any good. But they did find some boxes of canned food, some of those barely drinkable, but nutritionally dense breakfast shakes, feminine supplies, toiletries, cleaning supplies. They located a few cloth shopping bags, and filled them with everything that wouldn't fit on their person.

"This is Renji work," Grimmjow muttered, shoving some tampons into his pockets. "This is some kind of cruel and unusual punishment."

Ichigo just ignored him. Once they were through, he secured the bags to the horn of the saddle. Grimmjow mounted with a little more difficulty- his bag was damn heavy. Despite the urge to leave Ichigo there, he walked the horse to the fence, where Ichigo climbed up behind him.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Grimmjow breathed, digging his heels into the horse's sides.

A small group was waiting to receive them when they returned. The shy blonde, who Ichigo recognized as Izuru, held the horse while they dismounted. Renji, Ikkaku, and Momo took the bags from the horses and from their scouts' backs. Urahara approached with a grin.

"Glad you two could join us. Everyone else got back about an hour ago. We were starting to worry."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "I didn't think it was a race." He ran a hand through his hair. "Is it time for dinner yet?"

"Yes. I suggest you go before Hitsugaya eats it all."

Grimmjow ran off, undoubtedly cursing heavily in his native tongue. When his blue-haired tormenter was gone, Ichigo snapped toward Urahara.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked. "I thought he was going to stab me in the gut and leave me for the walkers," he grumbled, following as Urahara began to walk.

"Grimmjow.. is a very intense young man. Did you two run into any trouble?" he asked.

"No," Ichigo admitted. "It was almost too perfect."

Urahara smiled. "I know. I set that up. Don't worry. I don't put you into situations you can't handle, Ichigo. I know more about you than you may know," he admitted. "Grimmjow is intense, but he's proved himself time and time again. He's very survival-driven, but he's not one to abandon one of his own."

Ichigo licked his lips. "But how can you tell if you're 'one of his own?'"

Urahara just smiled. "Are you hungry, Ichigo?"

Chad's mission had seemed to go well, too. Over the years, Ichigo had learned to read minute changes in the man's fairly monotone expression. He was relaxed and satisfied with his day's work, and was listening intently to one of Orihime's stories. Uryuu was Uryuu, sitting across from Rukia, politely slurping on a small bowl of noodle soup.

It was Rukia who unsettled him. Ichigo sat beside her, holding a plate of rice and a bowl of the same kind of noodle soup that Uryuu was sipping on. Rukia didn't even look up.

"What's wrong?" Ichigo asked. "Did you get hurt while you were out?" he asked, looking at her with confusion in his eyes.

Rukia shook her head. "No. Just.. thinking about how this is all supposed to be," she admitted. "It's not right."

"Woah, in the months we've been out in the wild, I've never heard you talk like that," Ichigo said, concern in his voice.

"I know." She sighed. "It's just.. him." She pointed at her brother, who was eating a quiet meal with Ukitake, Urahara, and Kyoraku. "His wife was my best friend. I don't know how he's holding it together so well. He wouldn't talk about her at all." She buried her head in her arms. "I'll be fine. I just-"

"Everybody grieves in a way that is unique to them," Uryuu cut in. "And that goes for you, Rukia. It's okay." He gave a weak little smile, but his eyes met Ichigo's.

And Ichigo understood.

"We're making great strides toward self-sufficiency, but we still aren't there," Ukitake stated, placing his chopsticks down on his plate. The others at the table nodded.

"How is the Research Department's progress coming along?" Kyoraku asked, head turned toward Urahara, who leaned back in his chair.

"I need a living sample," he insisted. "You keep bringing me necrotic, dead flesh. I need a subject that has been infected, but not turned. That was supposed to be Grimmjow, but.. it appears that he took his arm before the virus could take hold. And believe me, I'm thankful for that. But.. you need to let me out to search harder." He looked toward the window.

Byakuya drummed his fingers on the table. "I personally believe that the search for supplies takes precedence. Research cannot do its job without food. Until our crops and livestock can sustain us in a more complete manner, we must continue to seek supplies elsewhere."

The rest of the table nodded again in agreement.

"I propose a trip further into the city," Kyoraku stated. "We have exhausted most of our resources in our vicinity. Nobody got very far. The stores might still be stocked."

Ukitake let out a breath. "We'd have to send our best. We can't know what's going to happen in higher populations.. the amount of dead would be immense," he sighed, not liking the sound of sending their best men out on one expedition.

"We'll have Hitsugaya gather a party. He knows the way they move, and the way they think. It's our safest option." Kyoraku looked at Urahara, who simply nodded.

Despite his size, Chad was a quiet, sound sleeper. Ichigo was grateful. He sat on his bed, shirtless and sore from his little adventure. He couldn't sleep. He had far too much on his mind. He flopped back on the mattress, just in time to hear the rhythmic beeping of the lock on his door reading a key.

There stood Hitsugaya, dressed in his pajamas, hair in his face. He made immediate eye contact with Ichigo.

"Couldn't sleep? Good. Let's take a walk."

Ichigo hadn't even been given the opportunity to put on a shirt. They started a course around the perimeter of the campus. A comfortable silence was shared as they walked. Hitsugaya's calmness was comforting. Was that why Grimmjow was so placid around him?

"...What's your history with Grimmjow?" Ichigo asked. Hitsugaya smiled to himself, head shaking.

"He was near death. He won't admit it, but he didn't have long. Instead of killing him- and trust me, the thought was tempting- I brought him back. He seems to respect me, somehow." He snorted.

"Because you saved his life?"

"No, he was pretty insistent that a 'thanks, I guess' took care of that. I guess it's just because it's easier for us to communicate with one another, for some reason."

"At least someone gets through to him," Ichigo muttered. "That trip was miserable."

Hitsugaya smirked. "He's insufferable. But you have to think of what he's been through. Normal people can't just.. cut their own limbs off. He's walked through the fires of Hell, and damn near took the place over. That, and he's still just a baby."

"Baby?" Ichigo was bewildered.

"He's eighteen."

Ichigo couldn't believe it. Eighteen. Grimmjow was just a little bit older than he was. "But he looks like he's twenty-five, thirty?"

"Drug use and trauma does that. Look at Lindsay Lohan. But, that's beyond the point. He likes you, Ichigo. You'd do best to not fuck it up."

"What makes you think he likes me?" Ichigo asked, the notion laughable.

"He didn't kill you and make it look like an accident." Hitsugaya was serious. "I think he respects that someone still has morals around here, honestly." He looked up at the moon. "We better head back. The morning is going to come sooner than we know." He gave a weak smile.

"..Right."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter explores the backstory of Hitsugaya, Gin, and Rangiku!

Toshiro Hitsugaya had always seen himself as a sensible man. He’d grown up in a generic small town in the midwest, Minnesota, to be exact. His grandmother had raised him, instilling sensible morals into his young, soft head. He’d graduated with honors from his generic high school. And when the following fall rolled around, he’d hauled his sensible ass out of that generic small town. He found himself a place within a group of other sensible people in Charleston, South Carolina, at the University of South Carolina.

He’d been happy. 

When the disease had started to spread, Hitsugaya hadn’t been worried. Why should he be? Logically, it would take more than a single mutation of Mad Cow Disease to cripple the entire human race. The disease was spread by direct contact with infected individuals. Considering that he didn’t have contact with anyone, let alone infected people thrown into airtight quarantine chambers, he wasn’t terribly concerned.

Not until the Karakura Town Incident.

Hitsugaya had always known that stupidity and hubris would be mankind’s downfall. When the scientist was bitten by an infected patient, he didn’t tell anyone. He just cleaned it up, slapped a band-aid on it, and went about his day. About a day later, he was making snacks out of everyone who would hold still long enough, basically churning out hyper-aggressive maneaters by the hour. And if one guy with a Doctorate-level education was dumb enough to go home after being bitten, imagine all of the people who went to work, went on road trips, got on planes, just thinking that a crazy homeless person had been trying to get their wallets.

In the middle of a so-called zombie apocalypse, education took a backseat to family. At the first hint of danger, students began to evacuate, catching busses and planes back home while they still could. Hitsugaya would have joined them, except for the fact that he didn’t have a family to go back to. In his Freshman year of college, his sensible grandmother had passed away. 

The campus was a ghost town, and that was how he liked it. He holed himself up in his dorm, wanting to avoid contact with anyone who could infect him.. or talk to him, for that matter. Sensible people were rarely social. Hitsugaya left his room only to shower, or raid the RA’s old room for snacks. 

Barefoot and dressed only in lounge pants and an open button-down, he stepped out of his room, shaking his hair out as he walked. The bathroom wasn’t far, but he had a steak knife in his hand, just in case. 

“Stop! You there!”

Hitsugaya froze. He’d not heard another person’s voice in days. He turned toward the sound, and damn near got knocked out as a woman rushed toward him, hitting him right upside the head with her breasts.

“What the fuck’re you doing here?” she scolded, taking his arm and helping him up.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he countered, rubbing his head. 

She sighed in exasperation. “C’mon. The place is surrounded. It’s not safe anymore. A group of us are headed north. We heard it’s safe there. They don’t like the cold, or something.”

“It’s fuckin’ July,” Hitsugaya muttered. “Surrounded. By that, do you mean--”

“No, I mean the cops have this place surrounded to bust all the wild parties we’re having.” The girl rolled her eyes. He responded with a scoff.

“No,” he snapped. “If we’re surrounded, how do you suggest we get out of here?” he asked, hand on his hip.

She grabbed his hand. “We’ll figure that out later. C’mon!”

The ‘group’ had turned out to be three other people packed into a sedan, the trunk packed with food and tampons. They’d found a small auxiliary road out of the campus, and made it out-- and only ran over four or five zombies.

“Do you think they feel that?” The girl, whose name ended up being Rangiku, asked as they ran over a zombie’s leg.

“Their brains are Swiss cheese. Don’t worry about it,” Hitsugaya stated from the back seat. “I read the CDC report. They don’t respond to pain stimuli. Noise and light overstimulate them, make them more aggressive than they already are. That’s what happened in New York, remember? Damn city fell overnight.”

The car went silent. “Thanks for the update, Dr. Depressing,” Rangiku said, rolling her eyes. “What were ya studyin’?”

“...Neuropsychology.”

“Course ya were. Hey, let’s get some tunes, can we? Tim, plug in your iPod.”

“We’re lost.”

“We ain’t lost.”  
“You said we’re going north, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Louisiana is south of Charleston, South Carolina.”

One of the other students, a nervous little girl named Brenda, pulled the car over and looked back. “I’m sick of his know-it-all attitude! Can’t you just mind your own business for once?”

Hitsugaya sat forward. “I’m in the car. This is my business,” he barked.

“Everyone shut up, Lord have mercy!” Rangiku yelled. “Brenda, you move this damn car along. And Toshiro, relax, will ya?”

Not another word was spoken before, unexpectedly, they caught sight of an old red truck cruising down the highway behind them. Brenda turned the flashers on and pulled over.

“The fuck’re you doing?” Tim hissed. “He could be a walker.”

Rangiku pinched Hitsugaya’s thigh to keep him from opening his mouth. 

The other car slowed to a stop on the highway beside them. Volunteered by the glares of the other occupants of the car, Rangiku and Hitsugaya got out, and slowly approached the driver’s side of the truck. Inside sat an unsettling-looking man, silver-haired and pale skinned. Upon further examination, Hitsugaya noticed that there was a snow plow fitted to the front of his truck, and blood and… meat.. had dried everywhere. The man got out of the truck, a double-barreled shotgun in his hands.

“Easy, now,” Rangiku chirped. “We’re just a lil’ lost, ya see,” she explained. 

“Lost, huh?” the man asked. Hitsugaya had practiced understanding southern accents.. but this one was strange, and ridiculously thick. He stepped back, feet bare on the burning pavement. He could feel the man’s squinted eyes on him.

“Damn, kid. You just wake up to the zombie apocalypse?” he asked, speech fluid and tone teasing. Hitsugaya responded with a grunt. 

“I’m just playin’, now. ‘S been awhile since I saw a real human, let alone ones as nice as y’all. Where ya headed?”

“Up north,” Rangiku admitted. “We’re from Charleston?”

The man’s head cocked. “Charleston? Why, you headed the wrong way.”  
“Knew it,” Hitsugaya grumbled. 

Without any warning, their conversation was interrupted by the screeching of tires. They watched as their fellow classmates took off in the opposite direction. Rangiku ran after them a few steps, middle fingers blazing.

“Those assholes!” she screamed after them. The odd man just laughed.

“Joke’s on them, honey. They won’t make it past DC. How ‘bout y’all tag along with me? I’ll show y’all the way.”

Hitsugaya put his hand on Rangiku’s shoulder. “Give us a moment,” he mumbled, and led her over to the median.

“We should go with him,” Rangiku said surely. “He’s gotta know the area better than we do. He’s got a car, and he’s got a gun.”

Hitsugaya stepped closer to her. “Rangiku, that is the face of a man that has witnessed anal rape,” he hissed lowly. She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be ignorant, Hitsugaya. Nothin’ wrong with a lil’ bit of adventure. It’s OK. I won’t let him near your booty,” she promised patting his head and leading him back.

“Well, if ya got room for us, we’d love to come along,” she chirped. He grinned and opened the passenger side door for them. It was an old truck, no back seats. 

“Little one in first. Y’all get to sit next to me,” he cooed. Hitsugaya gave Rangiku a murderous glare. He slid in, the old gear shift between his legs. She jammed in beside him and shut the door.

It didn’t take Rangiku long to find the liquor stashed in the glove box. Hitsugaya honestly wasn’t surprised-- who was going to pull him over? And what other drivers were there for him to endanger? He rolled his eyes as she popped the whiskey open with her teeth. She took a swig before offering some to Hitsugaya, who regarded her with a blank expression.

“Fine, more for me,” she shrugged. 

Hitsugaya turned his attention to the driver. He looked him over for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. “What do we call you?”

A grin. “Whatever ya want, baby. Call me Jesus, or Lucifer if ya’d rather. Or call me Ray the Firefly, just takin’ some ‘lil frogs where they wanna go. But my parents called me Gin Ichimaru.”

“That was what I was asking,” Hitsugaya muttered.

 

Gin was violent. No. Wrong word. Gin was fucking insane. 

He had little games, you see. Should a zombie be ambling in the middle of the road, it was sure to meet a gruesome end by vehicular homicide and a quiet ‘Yeah, a hundred points, woo!’ Hitsugaya was pretty sure that his count was nearing the thousands.

Gin tormented the two of them to his heart’s content. Who else did he have to piss off? He’d watch the ensuing panic if he brought a frog into the truck, or allowed the truck to drift into the opposite lane. There was no other traffic, of course, but some things were deeply ingrained to cause a reaction. Gin needed entertainment. Laughter seemed to keep him happy. And, given the instability that Hitsugaya had picked up from him.. he was going to let the man laugh. 

Rangiku seemed to be taking the car trip fairly well. She seemed to get along fairly well with Gin, but that came as no surprise to Hitsugaya. Rangiku had held a reputation in the dorm for being friendly. A little too friendly, depending on who was asked. Hitsugaya paid no mind to such rumors. It was disrespectful at best, and his time was preoccupied with study. Parties, social gatherings… none of that interested him. But for Rangiku, that had been her life. 

“Can we stop?” Hitsugaya snapped. They were all a little bit hungry, and Hitsugaya was known to get hangry. “This country music is going to make me stab my eardrums out,” he muttered.

“Aww, c’mon. It’s like a chorus of angels, ain’t it?”

“Lighten up, Toshiro.”

“Not you, too, Rangiku,” he groaned.

But Gin listened. He parked the truck at an old, out-of-the-way gas station. Rangiku stayed by the truck, siphoning what gas she could, and the two men made their way into the store. Immediately, Hitsugaya picked up a stick of beef jerky off of the floor, unwrapped it, and shoved it into his mouth. Gin pulled a warm Coke out of the cooler and cracked it open, taking a long sip. 

“Hot pop is a sin,” Hitsugaya muttered.

“Easy there, Mr. Cold Ravioli.”

“...Touche.”

Gin loaded a bag with whatever scraps he could find. Hitsugaya went into the back, hoping that he could find some food left behind by the employees. The gun was in his grasp-- Gin was insisting that he learn how to defend himself. But this far out, there was nobody. Nobody dead, nobody alive.

Until they heard her scream.

Hitsugaya’s heart clenched. He bolted, following right behind Gin. He would have been ahead of Gin, except for the fact that the silver-haired man’s legs were a hell of a lot longer. 

Two men had wrestled Rangiku to the ground. One was at her head, trying to hold her still. The other was settled between her legs, clumsy hands tugging at her jeans. 

Hitsugaya saw red.

He didn’t remember pulling the trigger. He didn’t remember Gin running forward with a knife and plunging it straight into a man’s kidney. He didn’t remember Rangiku pulling the knife out of the man’s side to slit his throat. All he remembered was picking Rangiku up, both of them shaking too hard to be any use. He tried to wipe the blood off of her cheek, but only managed to smear it.

“Easy now. Easy. Y’all’re okay,” Gin said soothingly, that creepy smile still on his face. Gin had grown up on a farm, Hitsugaya remembered. Blood didn’t bother him. Gin simply ushered the two of them into the back of the truck, pausing to wipe his hands on his jeans before climbing into the driver’s seat. He headed to the nearest source of water, a well-hidden lake.

Once given a chance to calm down and clean up, Rangiku seemed to… be okay. Hitsugaya, on the other hand, didn’t think he’d ever recover. He’d never be the same. He’d killed a man. In defense of another, of course, but if this were any other time, he could have solved the problem without blood.

But that was just it. 

This wasn’t any other time.

This was a new world.

Hitsugaya saw the blood flow away from him as symbolism. Whatever innocence he’d been able to hold onto was mixing with the cold water and washing from his body. He swam to the middle of the lake and dove under. When he emerged, he turned his glance to his companions. Rangiku was dressed and drying her hair. Gin was just beginning to disrobe and join him .

He was bonded to these people, in a way that he’d never truly understand.

When night struck, Gin had a habit of scanning the radio channels, just in case. Call it hope, if you will. He looked over to see Hitsugaya asleep in Rangiku’s lap, her arms around him.  
His little frogs were tired. 

Wait.

What was that?

Gin turned the volume up. It was full of static, and it was weak. But.. someone was talking.

“Please.. if.. hear.. we… refug--... near Fresno… campus of the University... “

That was all Gin needed. He took the next exit for Fresno, following signs for the college. Which one? It didn’t matter. He could go to each of them. Maybe the broadcast would get stronger. 

Hitsugaya woke soon after Rangiku did, his pillow moving out from under him. He looked out the window. A city?

“Where are we?”

“Picked up a radio broadcast. ‘Means there’s a settlement near here. Y’know, I thought it might be a trap, but I’ve always been a curious kinda guy. I thought we’d like to go check it out.”

The lights were what drew their eyes. Electricity. There was no way that someone would put that much effort into a prank or a trap. Hitsugaya let out a sigh and smiled.

“...Baby, you a song. You make me wanna roll my windows down, and cruise..” he sang softly, under his breath.

 

They arrived in the night. They were greeted by three people. One, with kind eyes and white hair brushing his back. Another, with nervous eyes and blonde hair covering much of his face. And then there was the woman with light in her eyes, and a smile that could heal cancer.

“We’re so happy to see you,” the first man said, wrinkles forming around his eyes as he smiled. “I’m Dr. Jushiro Ukitake. Before all of this happened, I taught upper-level Japanese at this college. This is Izuru Kira, a refugee from Kansas. He assists with agriculture. And this is Dr. Retsu Unohana, the director of our medical facility. Would you mind introducing yourselves, and what you did before this?”

“Gin Ichimaru. Worked on a farm. Trainin’ horses, herdin’ cattle, tendin’ crops. The usual.” He gave a little wink at Izuru, who bowed his head.

“Rangiku Matsumoto. I.. was a dance major,” she laughed. “But I was a competitive barrel racer for years.” 

“Toshiro Hitsugaya. I studied Neuropsychology.”

Ukitake seemed delighted. “Toshiro.” He pointed at himself. "Jushiro." He smiled kindly, a welcome contrast to Gin's creepy sneer. 

"How about we get you three into dorm rooms?"

"As in real beds and showers?" Rangiku asked excitedly.

"Yes, ma'am."

She squealed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!
> 
> -Character Death  
> -Racial Insensitivity (goddammit Grimmjow)

Rukia was in love with Seireitei. Not only the showers, the food, the beds.. but the people. It was a miniature city, and along with that, came the diversity. There was the obvious, of course. Grimmjow with his… colorful interpretation of Quebec. There was Uryuu, the German pain in their asses. But there was also Soi Fon, whose family immigrated from China. Ukitake was Japanese. She'd started becoming close friends with Renji, who was a Filipino immigrant, fluent in Tagalog and Brooklyn Badassery. He'd been a street performer, an artist scorned due to his dark skin and his dreadlocks.

"You know, I just thought your hair was that way because you didn't wash it," she teased, loosening her reins as she let her horse walk beside Renji's.

"As if," he laughed. "But it is easier to take care of like this. All of the knots are on purpose." He slowed his horse, a long-strided Tennessee Walking Horse, down to a walk. Many of them had been spending more and more time on horseback as of recently. Gin and Rangiku offered no explanation- they would just call and demand two or three people out to the stables at any given time.

"I'd like to know why we're doing this," Rukia stated, turning her little white Quarter Horse around a barrel. "I'm always sore. Some people just aren't meant to ride horses, Rangiku!"

Rangiku didn't look up, seated on a mounting block in the middle of the arena. "Yeah, yeah. Tell me that when you're tryin' ta run from a shit-ton of zombies on foot. Whitey here's gonna be your best friend. And c'mon, don't give her a break. Lope those damn barrels."

"I named her Sode no Shirayuki, thank you very much," Rukia snapped. "Don't listen to her," she play-pouted, rubbing her horse's neck.

Renji rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Zabimaru. Let's kick some girl-horse ass."

After an hour of intensive training, learning to jump and navigate various obstacles, Rukia and Renji dismounted, and took their horses back to their stalls. They watched as the next two came for their lessons.

Byakuya and Hitsugaya.

Renji stood awkwardly as Byakuya approached the stall he was in.

"How is your training coming along?" Byakuya asked, entering the next stall. They were only separated by a few bars. Renji blushed, grip tightening around the bridle in his hand.

"It's great, sir."

"Excellent. I anticipate that you are off to the gym now?"

Renji nodded. "Sir, if I may ask, why are we spending so much time on fitness? It's almost like we're being trained."

Byakuya nodded, bending over to pick up Senbonzakura's hoof. Renji tried not to take a look. "You will learn more about it in time. But, given your normal duties, your fitness is key. This is nothing new."

Renji exited the stall and hung up the bridle. "Yes, sir. Thank you." He turned toward Rukia, and mouthed one word. 'Weird.'

When Rukia and Renji were out of the stable, Hitsugaya looked at Byakuya, rolling his eyes as he threw his saddle pad onto his horse's back.

As it would turn out, they were being trained. A meeting was called to one of the old lecture halls. Ukitake, Hitsugaya, and Urahara stood at the front. As Ichigo entered, he looked at the others in attendance.

Rukia. Renji. Ikkaku. Izuru. Yumichika. Chad. Grimmjow. Ichigo took his seat beside Rukia.

"Thank you all for coming," Ukitake said kindly. "As some of you know, We've had a harder time procuring supplies from the surrounding area," he stated.

Renji nodded. "It's gettin' scarce."

"Precisely," Urahara spoke up. "So, with Captain Hitsugaya's guidance, we've gathered you lot to send an expedition further into the city. You were selected for your ability to make a cohesive team. That means- Grimmjow- that you will be expected to work together on this."

Grimmjow crossed his arm and stump. "I'm pleasant, goddammit."

"Right." Hitsugaya gave him a look. "We're expecting the city to be fairly well stocked. It fell so quickly that not many people got out," he stated, pointing at a map on the board. "But, that means that we'll be seeing plenty of… stragglers."

"You mean zombies," Ichigo spoke up. Hitsugaya nodded.

"Speed is incredibly important. You will all be well-armed. Grimmjow is going to… be in uniform, to help us stay hidden."

It was more of a briefing than a discussion. Nobody really had a choice. It was winter. Not much was growing. They needed to at least make it until summer. They were going to hit major targets first- particularly the new shopping mall. There were plenty of grocery stores nearby.

"You have three days to prepare," Urahara stated. "Make the most of it."

"Aren't you scared?" Orihime asked. She looked between the three from the Karakura Group who had been selected to go. It was no surprise that she and Uryuu hadn't been selected. With the other gatekeepers gone, they needed Uryuu to guard the gate.

"Not really," Ichigo shrugged. "Renji said that these things are usually pretty easy. Yeah, there are a shit-ton of zombies, but they usually aren't that hard to wade through, if you're smart. And we'll have a ton of backup."

Rukia nodded. "They just want to be safe. They don't fully know what's going to be in the city," she explained, taking a bite of her food. "Plus, I'm going so that we have a way to communicate with everyone back here. It'll be okay."

Chad didn't speak, but Ichigo didn't think he was particularly concerned. How long had they survived out there on their own? They were well-equipped. And with guns, knives, bows? They'd be fine, right?

When the day came, they all lined up by the gate. Unohana handed them two bottles of water and two granola bars each. The horses were all fitted with saddle bags, large enough to bring back plenty of supplies, if they were found.

Grimmjow and Chad both declined horses. Grimmjow had gone out the night before and found himself a couple of zombies. He'd given one the 'treatment,' cutting off its hands, bashing its teeth in. He kept it tied to a tree in the woods for the evening. The other was brutally slaughtered. He attached that damn jaw to the side of his face, and rolled around in blood. He smelled like death walking the earth. He waited for them on the other side of the gate, tapping his foot, holding the chain to his pet.

Ichigo mounted the horse he'd been given, and took hold of the reins. Urahara tightened his cinch for him, and placed a hand on Ichigo's lower leg.

"Be good out there, okay?" he asked with a smile. "Be careful."

Ichigo nodded.

Izuru, Ikkaku, and Yumichika were mounted, waiting together in a line outside of the gate. Shuuhei was checking their saddles and stirrups.

As Renji prepared to mount, he paused in time to see Byakuya approaching, Senbonzakura walking proudly behind him.

"Captain! I didn't know you were coming," he said with a smile.

"I'm not. I'm needed here." Byakuya said, and reached out to take Zabimaru's reins. Instead, he handed over Senbonzakura.

"I want you to ride him. He's faster," he stated, and stepped closer to Renji. "I want you to take care of Rukia, Renji. Can you do that for me?"

Byakuya was specifically entrusting his sister's wellbeing to Renji. He bowed his head low.

"Don't worry, sir. I'll take care of her." He gave one of his cocky grins as he tightened Senbonzakura's cinch and swung up. He could have sworn he'd seen a smile as Byakuya led Zabimaru away.

As everyone exited the gate, Uryuu came out to check the outside of their gate. "Be careful for the valkers," he warned, arming the code.

"The what?" Grimmjow asked, eyes narrow.

"The valkers."

"...Fucking what?"

"The things out there eating people," Uryuu snapped.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Go out and buy a pronunciation guide, fuck. I can't understand a word you're saying."

Uryuu gave him a blank look. "...Buy one? Buy one? Yes, let me just go to the store."

"I'm not taking it back."

"Let me just get into the car-"

"I will fucking hot wire a car for you," Grimmjow yelled.

Rukia snorted. "He's gonna kick your ass, Grimmjow."

"Pfft. Yeah, right. I'm a goddamn Aryan beauty. He wouldn't." The entire group went silent as Uryuu decked him in the face. Grimmjow laughed, cupping his cheek. "Hey, that hur-"

"Tais-toi!" Gin yelled. Wait. Gin knew French? Uryuu was dumbfounded. So was Grimmjow, honestly. Gin approached the blood-covered Canadian and began to speak to him in heavily accented Cajun French.

Well, that explained a lot.

Hitsugaya, mounted on his… rather short Appaloosa, paced along the line. "Is everyone prepared?" he called out. A chorus of 'Yes, sir!' was the response.

"Let's move out!" he hollered.

Everybody was silent as they began to ride out. Grimmjow was first in line, dragging his incapacitated zombie along with him. Hitsugaya rode close behind, serving as the party's leader. The sun was light on their backs, just beginning to peek out through the trees. The others fanned out in whatever order their horses wanted to move, with Chad keeping up the rear. It was serene. Hoofbeats on grass, the wind through the trees, the squeaking of leather.

The team stopped short. Through the trees, they could see dozens of zombies roaming the street. Hitsugaya let out a breath. He kicked his feet out of the stirrups and swung down, prompting the others to follow suit.

"From here, we're on foot. Tie your horses and follow Grimmjow," he insisted.

Grimmjow went well in front of everyone, his blue hair serving as a beacon. The zombies didn't even turn toward him as he walked. It was amazing, really. His pace was slow but confident. He pushed right into zombies without even a baring of teeth.

They held their knives close, ready to strike if a zombie lashed out. Ichigo watched as Izuru plunged his knife into a very close-wandering zombie's temple. It fell with a groan.

They picked up their speed. Their cover was running thin. Grimmjow could only hide them for a few moments before the smell of the dead was overpowered by the smell of the living.

Hitsugaya broke easily into the mall, thanking everything he could think of that it was so damn close to the woods. He waved everybody along. They were entering through a side entrance. Their goals were food and necessary supplies. There were no other known outposts nearby. Once they knew the area better, had it cleared, then they would pick up non-essentials. Hitsugaya took them to the open archway that led to the rest of the mall.

And time stood still.

He knew that they should have started with the fucking grocery store.

The mall was overrun. Zombies groaned and wandered aimlessly through the halls, the floors and railings covered in dried blood. Wordlessly. Hitsugaya turned them back toward the door. "We need to get out of here," he whispered. He reached his hand out to the handle, but pulled it away as if it burned, hearing the impact of hands and bodies against the door. So much for that plan.

"Our only way out is through there," he pointed. "It's easier in smaller groups. Kurosaki, you and Chad go with Grimmjow. Renji, take Rukia and Ikkaku. Everyone else, with me. If we all go different directions, it'll be easier. Rukia. As soon as we're out, call Seireitei. It's too dangerous out here."

"Yes, sir."

Nobody seemed to be enjoying the thought of splitting up. But they did so slowly, to avoid drawing too much attention. Grimmjow was nearly out the door, Chad and Ichigo on his tail, when an ear piercing screech echoed through the entire goddamn mall.

All eyes fell onto Rukia.

She frantically tried to turn off her walkie talkie, but it was too late. The groaning was growing closer.

"Weapons out!" Hitsugaya hissed, pulling out his gun. "Get the fuck back to the horses, and haul ass back to Seireitei. Do you understand me? Izuru, Yumichika, I have faith in you. We will meet at the gate. Go!" he yelled, opening fire on the hoard of zombies that just seemed to be growing larger by the minute. Without any hesitation, he ran, head-first into the danger, yelling for the zombies to follow him, and for everyone else to run.

"Hitsugaya!" Grimmjow screamed. "You moronic fuck, you get your ass back here so I can decimate it!" he hollered. Ichigo wrapped an arm around Grimmjow's waist and yanked him off to the side. "Blow me, Kurosaki. Let the fuck go!" Grimmjow dropped the chain, his little pet disappearing among the scores of zombies. Ichigo used the wall as a safe point and followed it, with Chad running out in front of him. It was reminiscent of their first night among the dead. Chad was launching the damn things as far as he could, trying to knock a clear path.

Grimmjow was going to get them killed, if he kept on screaming. So Ichigo took him by the shoulders and slammed him into a pole as they ran.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarled. "You are going to get us killed. He knows what he's doing. He'll be fine."

Thoroughly pissed off, Grimmjow took an occasional glance back, jumping to see if he could see a tuft of white hair. Ichigo strong-armed him into keeping moving. On a whim, he pulled them into a department store. They often had private exits, and the clothing racks would provide some degree of cover. When the zombies began to close in on their sides, Ichigo drew his knife, and took a moment to sink the blade into a few brains.

Chad stopped abruptly, expression blanked as he pointed at the door.

"I'd say we're damn well fucked," Grimmjow snarled.

Yumichika had no plans of dying. Not that night, and if he had anything to say about it, not ever.

"Izuru. Izuru, listen to me. You have to stay calm."

Panic attacks were certainly not desired, but there was Izuru, hands shaking, breath shallow and fast. He was the color of sweet cream, all color drained from his face. Yumichika grabbed him by the arm. He had to get him out of there. But how? The walkers were closing in quickly.

The window.

Yumichika took hold of Izuru's hand and yanked him forward. He took a two-by-four from a display. Knowing that Izuru would be of no good use, he braced his strength behind it, got a running start, and smashed through the floor-length window off to the side. The group of zombies was wide, but not very deep. He was able to push through them, keeping speed and bolting for the horses. Izuru ran after him, mind foggy as he blindly followed his well-groomed savior. He dodged the fallen zombies with more grace than he knew that he possessed. It took mere seconds for them to untie and mount their horses.

"Fly, Kujaku," Yumichika snarled, digging his heels into the horse's sides before the zombies could gain on them.

Renji's priority was to defend Rukia. He had to get her out. He'd given Byakuya his word. As he ran behind the herd that Hitsugaya had distracted, he looked down at her. She was already blaming herself, he could tell. Ikkaku took care of that for him, tapping her on the back and giving her a thumbs up and a smile. If nothing else, it would keep her moving until they had the luxury of stopping.

Renji skidded to a stop as he saw a door marked for the roof. "...Rukia. Do you know what parkour is?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Oh, hell yes."

Ikkaku held the door, shooting any zombie that came too close. Renji and Rukia bounded up the staircase, with Ikkaku right behind. They ended up on the roof. It was clear. Rukia took the time to lean forward, hands on her knees, breath heavy.

"This is all my fault," she sobbed, collapsing on the concrete. Renji crouched down in front of her, stroking her hair. There was no time for babying, for pussyfooting around. But he'd make time. None of this was her fault, and she had to know that.

"Shit happens. Come on, Rukia. Let's try to find a way down."

Renji made a mental note of where the horses were. He circled the way around the roof, locating a small fire escape.

"Okay. Rukia. Come here," he insisted. "When you hear hoofbeats, I want you to jump down from here. Ikkaku and I are going to go ahead."

Rukia's expression soured. "Renji. I can do-"

"Not today," he snarled harder than he'd meant to. "Do as you're told. I am not going to risk your life," he insisted. Tightening the fingerless gloves he'd worn that day, he slid down the ladder, and hit the pavement at a run. Ikkaku was right behind him. When they reached the horses, Ikkaku helped untie Rukia's horse, and handed the lead rope to Renji after he was seated on Senbonzakura's back. Once mounted, Ikkaku took off toward home.

Renji opened Senbonzakura into a running walk, with Rukia's horse trotting along behind him.

"Renji!"

He heard the scream, and brought the horse into a canter. He could barely see Rukia, blocked by the small crowd of zombies surrounding her. Goddammit, she hadn't fucking listened. Following exactly none of the safety lectures that Gin had given, he tied Rukia's horse's lead rope to the horn of his saddle. He kissed to get more speed out of Senbonzakura, and held his hand out.

He could hear and feel the sickening pop as he lifted Rukia up by the arm. A blood-curdling scream followed. He winced his eyes shut as she fell limp against his back, sobs wracking her tiny body.

Byakuya had trusted him, and he'd just dislocated his sister's fucking shoulder.

Ichigo was numb as he mounted his horse. Everything was shaking. Grimmjow's voice was drowned out by the sound of his own blood. His hands, pale, clammy, and soaked in blood, gripped the reins weakly as his horse took off. This time, Grimmjow sat behind him, arm around his waist as he looked back to see if he could see any sign of Hitsugaya.

"Chad's dead."

Ichigo had to say it aloud. It tasted like poison on his tongue. His vision went blurry. For once, Grimmjow didn't respond.

"Chad is dead."

It had happened so fast. They were everywhere. Clawing, gnashing their teeth. They were reaching for him. They had him.

And there was Chad.

He'd burst through the gathering of walkers. Without even a moment's hesitation, he'd grabbed Ichigo and threw him out of danger.

"Ichigo, go!" he'd yelled.

Chad was many things, but agile was not one of them. Once he was surrounded, he was done. And dammit, the adrenaline pushed Ichigo out of the door so quickly that he couldn't even respond. Chad had been there for him. For Rukia. For Orihime. For Uryuu. And he was gone, just like that.

Grimmjow had seen enough death to not be phased. Chad wasn't one of his. His death didn't affect him in nearly the same way it did Ichigo. But what did bother him was the fact that Hitsugaya's pony was still standing tied to that tree. All of the other horses were gone. Hitsugaya was one of his. He liked Hitsugaya. And he had to go and do something so monumentally stupid. Had he saved all of them? Well, not all of them, no. Would they have stood a better chance if they'd stayed together? Possibly.

Grimmjow was angry.

Yumichika and Izuru were the first to arrive at the gates. Uryuu's response was immediate. He flagged the others, and judging by the pace, their situation was dire. Yumichika was towing Izuru's horse, slowed to a speedy trot, Izuru's reins in his hand. One at the gate, Yumichika dismounted, and immediately stripped his shirt off for the bite check.

"It was worse than we thought," he breathed, turning as Unohana lifted his arms and checked his legs for blood. Gin was by Izuru's side, helping him off of his horse.

"He ain't bit," Gin stated, rubbing Izuru's back. "Just shaken. I'll get him his meds," he said soothingly, leading Izuru away.

"Where is everyone else?" Byakuya asked, able to hide the panic in his voice.

Yumichika shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't see anyone get hurt. Hitsugaya bolted. But.. I don't know." He met Byakuya's gaze. "I don't know."

Hours would pass before they caught sight of anyone else on the horizon. Uryuu focused off into the distance. "One horse, black, white socks."

"That's Zangetsu. Can you see the riders?" Urahara called.

"...It's Kurosaki and Jaegerjacques," he replied. "I can see their hair now!"

Exhaustion seemed to overcome both of them. Ichigo was slumped in the saddle, and Grimmjow's head was buried in his back. Their horse was keeping a peppy walk, which was probably what had taken them so damn long. When the horse stopped, intercepted by Urahara, Ichigo blinked back to wakefulness.

"You knew. You bastard, you knew," Ichigo hissed, eyes closing.

"How did you get back here?" Urahara asked.

Grimmjow opened an eye. "Did you know you can steer a horse with your legs if your fucking pilot is dead weight?" he asked. "Fuck, just leave me alone," he grumbled, sliding off of the horse's back.

"Is this because of Hitsugaya?"

"Fuck you."

Ichigo had never felt such unbridled hatred in Grimmjow's voice. Urahara let Grimmjow go to Unohana, who began to check him for bites. Knowing that he was bathed in the blood of the dead, she began to hose him off right then, not wanting any chance that the disease could infect the unknowing.

Byakuya was becoming nervous. He crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the horizon. Renji was on the fastest horse in Seireitei. There was no excuse for him to be so late. There was no use for him to be so far behind. There was no excuse for him to be dead. Yumichika's worry echoed his own.

"Ichigo, did you see anyone die?" Urahara asked.

Ichigo swallowed thickly, trying to muster the strength to speak, let alone dismount. "...Chad. Chad is dead," he said softly. The others went silent. Ichigo could feel the pangs in their hearts, but they would never know what he knew, or see what he saw. Grimmjow had been there, but Grimmjow didn't give a shit about anybody but himself. What good was a goddamn safehouse if they couldn't keep everyone safe?

"Approaching! Three horses, one riderless!" Uryuu called.

The others moved to higher ground, hoping to see whoever it was. Yumichika's heart soared as he caught the shine of Ikkaku's bald head. He took off at a run. Ikkaku dismounted mid-trot, running to Yumichika and scooping him up in his arms.

"Never do that to me again," Yumichika snarled into his ear. "I mean it, Ikkaku."

Ikkaku rubbed his back, stroking his hair out of his face. "We had to make a pit stop."

Byakuya marched past, approaching Senbonzakura head on. Where was Rukia? Her horse was being towed.. why wasn't she there? Renji was sitting tall, a weak grin on his face.

"I did it."

"Did what?" Byakuya asked, voice unnaturally even.

"I kept her alive."

Renji turned Senbonzakura a little bit, showing a sleepy, pained Rukia with her face buried in his back. She was clutching her arm. He dismounted as soon as Unohana and Byakuya pulled her off.

"Captain," he began, shifting his feet awkwardly. "I'm sorry." He couldn't make eye contact. "I.. she was surrounded by walkers. I kinda.. picked her up by her arm. Her shoulder dislocated. I'm sorry." He kicked some dirt. "We stopped. Ikkaku helped me get it back in the joint. But.. I'm sorry. I did what I could."

Byakuya regarded him with patience. He simply reached out, a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, Renji."

Renji bowed his head.

"Alright. Let's get our bite checks done. Ichigo, you first," Urahara said casually. Ichigo groaned, sliding off of his horse. He tugged off his shirt.

"None of the blood's mine." He rolled his eyes. "It's all from- why are you staring at me like that?"

Everybody was transfixed on Ichigo. Even Grimmjow had paused in his improvised bath to gawk. Byakuya was the first to break his stare, and brushed up against Urahara.

"It seems you might have gotten your wish," he stated lowly, before taking Rukia from Unohana. She had bigger problems ahead of her.

In the center of Ichigo's chest laid tooth marks, clearly from the upper jaw. He didn't fight as he felt authoritative arms around his body to keep him still. He closed his eyes, fear and panic clutching at him, but gaining no foothold in his exhausted mind.

Grimmjow took the hose and threw it, as hard as he could, screaming into the wind as he trudged through the gate.


	10. Chapter 10

This is your fault, Jaegerjacques.

He left you in charge.

If it weren't for you, they'd still be alive.

If you could pull your own weight, he wouldn't be in this situation.

The voices in Grimmjow's head were a dull roar as he jogged after the crowd, not losing sight of bright orange hair on the gurney. He still wasn't clean. Blue had been stained red, his hand still blood-drenched. Was it the blood of the walker, or was it Kurosaki's?

Was there even a difference anymore?

Kurosaki had been bitten. That was it. Game over. You don't have to go home, but you sure as shit can't stay here.

Nobody at Seireitei had ever been bitten before. Grimmjow knew that it was going to be the talk of the settlement for months to come. Hell, those who had gone on that stupid fucking deathmarch would probably never forget. He knew that he wouldn't. Urahara was going to have to offer a hell of a lot more than some extra food if he wanted Grimmjow to take a step outside of the gates any time soon. No. Scratch that. He'd go. He'd mangle a zombie, strap Yylfordt's jaw to his face, become psychosis incarnate.. but he would never go with someone else. Solitude was safer. He was just fine out there on his own.

Why did he have to go and care?

Grimmjow stood opposite Urahara, Kuchiki, Ukitake, Kyoraku, Unohana.. all of the people who had a say. Hanataro whisked Ichigo into a private examination room to clean him up. The virus wouldn't take hold for another couple of hours. He'd be cleaned up, given some water, and likely left to die. Grimmjow remembered Yylfordt, shaking and sweating, breath shallow as his bodily functions began to shut down..

"What shall we do?" Ukitake asked, watching through the glass as Hanataro began to dress the tell-tale wound on Ichigo's chest.

"What do you recommend, Urahara?"

Urahara sucked in air. "Well, our options are as follows. We make him as comfortable as possible. I observe him, take blood and tissue samples as the disease progresses. Kurotsuchi can analyze them while I stay here. Then, when he reaches the moment of death, we destroy the brain. We can avoid reanimation and safety risk. Or.."

Kuchiki pursed his lips. "Or?"

"We kill him right now."

Grimmjow felt his jaw tense. He could hear his heartbeat against his eardrums. The others were talking, but he couldn't hear them.

"We don't kill the living."

He wasn't audible. A small argument had broken out amongst the captains in attendance. In not even half a second, Grimmjow's hand was wrapped around Urahara's throat. He slammed the man against the wall, a snarl on his face. His stump was holding Urahara in place, keeping him from struggling.

"We don't kill the living," he roared, fingernails leaving deep pits in Urahara's throat. They had to tear Grimmjow away, avoiding his kicks, punches, and attempts to bite Byakuya Kuchiki.

Urahara rubbed his throat, looking at his hand to check for blood.

"I think Jaegerjacques has made himself quite clear. Kurosaki stays alive… until he is taken."

The brain wasn't designed to think about its own mortality. It was designed for self-preservation. It was designed for optimism. Maybe that was why Ichigo had kept so calm. He sat cross-legged on the mattress, eyes fixed on his hands. There was an IV in his arm, placed by a very nervous nurse. Electrodes were placed strategically over his body.

This was wrong. He couldn't list on two hands how many ways this was wrong.

He'd been bitten. In a matter of hours, he'd fall ill. Coughing, sore throat, fever, vomiting. He'd grow sicker and sicker, hallucinations from fever filling his head. He'd drive himself insane up until the moment of death. Then, within minutes, hours at most, he'd reawaken as one of those creatures. The ones that had killed Chad. The ones that had taken his mother, and for all he knew, the rest of his family.

Chad's sacrifice was for nothing.

It was all for nothing.

Ichigo could see Urahara on the other side of the glass. The sight made his stomach churn. How dare he? He'd known. There was no way he couldn't have. He knew what was out there, but he'd sent them out regardless. And Ichigo wanted to know why.

Ichigo pursed his lips as, clad in a surgical mask and gloves, Urahara opened the door to the isolation room, a tray of instruments in his hand. He placed it on the table.

"Get the hell out of here," Ichigo snapped.

"Now, now," Urahara cooed softly. "Save your strength. Why don't you lie back for me? And let me see that nasty wound on your chest."

"Go to Hell."

Quietly, Urahara walked to Ichigo's side. His eyes were sympathetic as he sat beside him. "This is not a discussion," he said firmly. "If you do not allow me to collect these samples, then my colleague, Dr. Kurotsuchi will. He does not like to be dragged out of the lab, and I can guarantee that he will be neither kind nor patient. The decision is yours. Open your gown, or be tied down and forced."

Lips pursed, nostrils flared, gaze averted, Ichigo threw himself back against the bed and unbuttoned the gown, revealing the still-tender wound on the center of his chest.

"That's a good boy," Urahara cooed, standing to grab his instruments.

This is what hell was going to be like.

Exhausted by his day's misery, Ichigo draped his arm over his eyes, attempting to get a little bit of sleep. It wasn't likely that he'd get any- Unohana and Urahara were taking turns checking on him every half hour.

"It seems like you have a visitor," Unohana noted, taking his temperature. It was normal… but for how long? Ichigo moved his arm to peek through the window.

Uryuu.

"Ishida!" he called, unsure if he was audible through the glass. Ishida turned, placing the garment he'd been working on in his lap. That wasn't unlike Ishida. He'd always had a weird thing for sewing. Ichigo recognized the cloth he was working on as one of Rukia's shirts. At least he was making himself useful. "What are you doing here?"

Uryuu's gaze dropped. "It is my belief that nobody deserves to die alone." He shoved his glasses up on his nose. "I know that we are not necessarily liking each other. But I will be here until the end. It is part of my honor."

Ichigo scoffed, leaning against the headboard of the bed. "I don't need your sympathy, Ishida."

"Good. I am not giving it." Uryuu moved to return to work. "Say what you will, but I am not moving. There is not much you can do to convince me otherwise. You are in there, and I am out here."

Ichigo shook his head, groaning loudly as he flopped back onto the pillows. He was going to die. And what was worse, Ishida was going to see him die.

"Don't you have a gate to guard?"

"It's taken care of."

Fuck.

When Ichigo woke, Ishida was still seated on the floor in front of him. It seemed as if he hadn't been prepared to wait there for such a long time. Rukia's shirt had long since been mended, and he'd taken to cross stitching designs into the back. Ishida looked tired- how long had he been there?

Before Ichigo could investigate, he saw Urahara approach and kneel beside Uryuu, rubbing his shoulder gently.

"You should go get yourself a snack and take a nap. I've called someone else to keep vigil. I'll call you if anything happens," Urahara promised.

Ishida looked reluctant. "I just.. it normally doesn't take so long."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Sorry for taking too long to die," he snapped, throwing his arms into the air. The motion pulled on his IV, and he winced a little.

"Good, you're up." Urahara smiled at Ichigo. "He's right. Six hours, not so much as a sniffle. Very peculiar." He cocked his head. "Do you mind if I take a few more samples?"

"...Don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Not in the slightest."

Ishida took the opportunity to leave, opting to fill his stomach and close his eyes for a while. Ichigo closed his eyes while Urahara took a few more vials of blood- more than last time- and took some tissue samples from the bite site. Curiously, instead of continuing to ooze and necrotize, Urahara noted that it was.. quite stable. He closed Ichigo's shirt quickly, not wanting to bring up any questions that he couldn't yet answer.

When Ichigo's eyes opened again, Urahara was gone. In Uryuu's place by the window was…

Grimmjow?

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ichigo demanded, sitting up.

Grimmjow shrugged, lips pursed as he flipped open a 3DS with one hand. "Making sure you don't go all brain-munchy, I guess." His voice didn't hold nearly as much hostility as it normally did. He must have been exhausted. His accent was stronger. He wasn't self-monitoring. For a split second, Ichigo felt worse for him than he did for himself.

And then he remembered. Oh, yeah. He was going to become a zombie. Fuck Grimmjow's sadness.

"...Are you playing Pokemon right now?"

"Go fuck yourself, Kurosaki."

Grimmjow lasted longer than Uryuu had. Though, he had disappeared for a few moments to go to the bathroom and grab something to eat. He returned with a Coke, a bag of Doritos, and a brownie.

See, Ichigo hadn't been granted anything to eat or drink since arrival. Honestly, he doubted that they had expected him to live that long. It certainly seemed to intrigue Urahara, who seemed intent on slowly draining him of his blood, vial by vial. And there was Grimmjow, holding delicious junk food. It wasn't right.

"How come he gets snacks?" Ichigo demanded as Urahara came in once more to check his vital signs. "I haven't eaten all day."

"What, this?" Grimmjow asked, looking at his brownie. He licked up the side of the treat sensually, teasing the short edge with his tongue, making eye contact with Ichigo the entire time. "Ugh. It's so good." He nibbled off a corner, holding it in his mouth as he rubbed his nipple through his shirt.

Ichigo looked ready to break through the glass and stab Grimmjow with a scalpel, but Urahara pushed him back onto the bed. "Grimmjow, cut it out. You're going to make me vomit," Urahara warned, rubbing Ichigo's shoulder soothingly.

"I'll be back in a while."

"It'd better be with food," Ichigo grumbled.

If asked only a few short hours prior, Ichigo Kurosaki wouldn't have said that he expected to see another sunrise. But there it was, peeking through the blinds. He blinked to consciousness slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. No sore throat. No fever. No cough. Not even a sneeze. For a second, he thought that maybe he was already dead. Peace had found him in his sleep, and Urahara had relieved him of his misery before he could do an damage. He could see Grimmjow and Ishida sleeping side-by-side, propped up against the wall. Urahara was approaching, with several others behind him.

Nope. Scratch that. This was hell.

"Rise and shine," Urahara sang, opening the door. Unexpectedly, everyone else joined him. Well, mostly everyone. Ukitake remained outside, gently shooing Ishida and Jaegerjacques. "We've come to discuss your test results, Ichigo."

"Is it Ebola AIDS?" Ichigo deadpanned, rolling over onto his stomach. He didn't like to be woken, especially when faced with near-certain death.

"I don't think that you appreciate the gravity of this situation, young man."

Ichigo opened his mouth and turned his head to insist to the unknown speaker that, yes, he knew very well that he was going to die a very horrific, painful death, thank you very much. But when he saw the man's face, he screamed, and nearly fell out of the bed.

This new stranger was like nothing he'd ever seen before. He was tall and skinny, with long fingers and creepy, long fingernails painted black. His face was layered on with so much paint that he no longer resembled a human, but rather an ancient Egyptian pharaoh mask. The look in his eyes was more unsettling than even Grimmjow's. There wasn't a shred of sanity or reason left in this guy.

"I'm Dr. Kurotsuchi, an expert on infectious disease. And you, Ichigo Kurosaki, are supposed to be dead right now."

Ichigo regarded him with distrust.

"I looked at your samples again and again. Freshly infected flesh is hard to come by, you know?" He tapped his chin. "In the first sample provided by Dr. Urahara, I was able to see the virus among your cells. I'd hoped to observe them as they infected and took over your cells at the very molecular level.. but I was very disappointed! You see, instead of succumbing to the infection, your white blood cells actually destroyed them on the spot!" he cried, seeming quite distressed.

"What he means, Ichigo, is that you seem to be.. immune, for the lack of a better word," Urahara explained.

Ichigo sat in silence. Most people would be jumping over the moon at that point. But Ichigo's expression darkened. He was immune. The disease wouldn't touch him. But why him? Why him, and not his mother? Why him, and not the millions of people who had succumbed to the virus? What made him so special? His brows furrowed, and he avoided Kyoraku's touch.

"That can't be right."

Urahara sat beside him. "Your subsequent samples showed less and less viral activity. I expect that, by tomorrow, your viral load will be undetectable, if it's even there at all."

"Then you need to do something," Ichigo insisted quickly. "A vaccine. A treatment. Something. Anything."

"One step at a time," Kurotsuchi interjected. "Those things are tricky. They take time and testing. And trust me, Urahara isn't very keen on trying to infect people to test a little shot. Trust me, we've tried." He looked at his assistant, a very pretty young woman in a short skirt. "Nemu, be a dear and take some more samples from the subject."

"...He needs blood to live, Dr. Kurtosuchi."

Guilt filled Rukia's eyes. She hadn't slept peacefully. Between her shoulder and her mental anguish, she couldn't close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw Hitsugaya charging into the horde of zombies. She saw Chad. She saw his rare smile, his teddybear eyes. She saw Ichigo, scowling like the jackass he was and.. not zombified. Her head fell against the pillows, uninjured arm thrown over her eyes.

And she began to cry.

The quiet sobs pulled Renji out of his work. With an unfortunately limited amount of concrete and asphalt to draw on, he'd taken to paper. He felt that art was one of humanity's most important tools. He used his art to immortalize his experience. For posterity. If mankind survived this trial, he wanted there to be proof of this place. And, if the zombies won, he wanted the goddamn aliens or evolved rats to know what happened.

"Hey," he cooed, closing his sketchbook and reaching out to stroke her hair. "Uh, I think Unohana's still busy with the whole.. Kurosaki situation. Want me to hunt down Hanataro or Inoue to give you more pain medicine?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine. And that's just it. I'm fine," she cried, burying her head in her more mobile hand. "I'm going to recover from this. Chad is dead, Renji. And Ichigo- what's going to happen to him? Hitsugaya's as good as dead. I did this, Renji. If it weren't for me, none of this would hav-"

"Shut up," Renji barked. The rude interjection seemed to leave Rukia momentarily speechless. "It was a dangerous trip. We knew that before we left. They knew that. Nobody blames you." He needed to distract her, if she was ever going to get any sleep.

"Hey. Tell me what it's like in Vermont. I never got that far up north."

"Renji.." She was hesitant.

"I mean, I can start singing inste-"

"Cold. Vermont is cold."

Renji listened as Rukia told him all about her past. She told him about hiking to school in two feet of snow, of taking trips out to catch lobster. She had taken classes in karate and ballet. She remembered going ice skating with her sister..

"Wait, sister?" Renji asked, eyebrow raised.

Rukia dragged her hand over her face. "Shit, you don't know, do you? Byakuya isn't my blood brother," she explained. "He's my brother-in-law. He married my older sister about.. eight years ago." Pain was present in her voice and on her face. Renji could feel his stomach drop. There were only so many directions that this story could travel in.

"You know the story. He was a spoiled rich boy with a temper from Hell. She was the poor girl with a heart of gold. I was just.. thrown into the middle of it. She and I moved in with him, until I was given the opportunity to go to Karakura. When we got here.. I was so happy to see him. If he was here, then surely Hisana.." She began to tear up again. Renji reached out to hold her hand.

"Hey. You need to sleep. It's been a long enough day," he insisted, getting up to leave.

Rukia nodded slowly. As Renji made his way out the door, she reached out to take his sketchbook. Thinking that he'd remember to come back for it at some point, she flipped through the pages.

Zombies. Byakuya. A drawing of himself tuning his guitar. Grimmjow in full uniform. Byakuya. The Karakura kids. Byakuya. Byakuya. Seireitei itself. Byakuya.

"...Oh my god."

"The fuck do you mean, I can't go out? This is fucking bullshit!"

Ikkaku and Yumichika had their backs to the gate, stances firm, glares hard. Grimmjow was in front of them, trying his damnedest to get out.

"Urahara doesn't want you leaving."

"Urahara can bite my dick. Balls, too." Grimmjow snarled. He paced like a scared lion, lip drawn up in a snarl. "One arm or not, I can tear both of your fruity asses to shre-"

"Now, that's enough!"

Grimmjow snapped back to look at the intruder. Rangiku. Without any fear, she marched right up to him and took him by the good arm. He tried to swing around to kick her, punch her with his stump, whatever blow he could land. She brought him to his knees, hand twisted behind his back.

"You wanna run that by me again?" she hissed, pressing his face into the dirt. "You gonna apologize?" she asked expectantly, raising his head by the hair so he could speak.

"..Sorry that you guys are fuckwads," he grumbled. That was the best they were going to get out of him. Rangiku let him go, and stood back as she watched him stumble back to his feet.

Grimmjow was deteriorating before her very eyes. She didn't need to be told why. He was angry. With Hitsugaya, with Kurosaki, with himself. He blamed himself for their predicaments. Though the latest status report kept Ichigo listed as 'stable,' that could change at any second. And, for some reason, those were the two people that Grimmjow had attached himself to. He didn't seem like the kind of person who gave a shit about anybody but himself.

And he'd cared about them.

"...Come on, buddy. Let's gather the gang and get blackout drunk. How's that sound?" She took him by the arm, placing her hand over the healed and scarred track marks on his arm.

"About fucking time."

'The gang' ended up being Rangiku, Izuru, Gin, and Shuuhei. They were seated in the tack room, spread out on the floor, an unfeasible amount of red Solo cups surrounding them.

"So, what was your.. thing with Hitsugaya?" Shuuhei slurred, making the attempt to look at Grimmjow. "Were you fuckin'?"

"Shit, no," Grimmjow waved his stump, pouring some more vodka into his cup. "Ain't nothin' gay like that. No offense, Kira."

Izuru rose an eyebrow.

"Then what were you?"

Grimmjow groaned. "You're really fuckin' harshin' my liquor boner, Hisagi," he snapped. "Most people think I'm a worthless little shitfuck. He didn't. The end."

Gin took a swig of Izuru's drink. "What're them scars on your arms?"

"Heroin's one hell of a drug, ai-je raison?" he asked, sick grin on his face. "Three years of my life, pissed right away."

"...You're eighteen."

"It's not polite to comment on a lady's age."

Without a word, Rangiku crawled awkwardly to where Grimmjow sat. She threw her arms around him and pulled him close. He seemed to melt, burying his face in her neck. The embrace was held for a few moments, with nobody daring to say a word.

Rangiku fell back on her ass as she pulled away. "I think it's time for us to be hittin' the sack. We got that meetin' in the mornin'," she slurred. "'Mon, Jaegerja… G-Grimmjow. Y'all're sleepin' with me t'night. Jus' don't scare th' piss outta Hinamori," she giggled, leaning into him as they stood and stumbled out of the barn.

"...So my best friend has to go missing for me to get in bed with her?" Shuuhei lamented, leaning back against a saddle rack.

Izuru shrugged. "You can always make Renji disappear."

"Don't give 'im ideas, 'Zuru."


	11. Chapter 11

Night was peaceful at Seireitei. The majority of the settlement settled down no later than nine, wanting to save electricity and use daylight when possible. Grimmjow wasn't one of those people. He wasn't early to bed, and he sure as shit wasn't early to rise. With the passing of every day, their hope in finding Hitsugaya dwindled, and Grimmjow's filter disappeared with it.

Two in the goddamn morning. Izuru was out of bed in an instant. It wasn't as if he'd been sleeping well, to begin with. The nightmares from that god-forsaken outing had settled into his mind, revealing itself only while he slept. So what was the solution? Lying in bed, trying to invite sleep in its most shallow form, not wanting to get deep enough to allow the terror.

"Grimmjow, it is the middle of the night. What do you wa- hey!"

Grimmjow shoved past him, closing the door firmly. "Dude, I've gotta hide. I fucked up. I fucked up bad."

Gin looked back at all of the commotion, rubbing his eye sleepily.

"What'd you do now, Jaegerjacques?" Gin asked, voice hoarse.

Grimmjow dug his heel into the ground. "...Je baisé cette salope rousse."

Gin snorted. "Rangiku?"

"Hell, no! She'd bite it off!" he cried.

Izuru looked confused. "I don't speak French, but if I had to guess- you had sex with someone you shouldn't have?"

"...That woman. Inoue, I guess is her name?"

Izuru buried his head in his hands.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm goin' to bed," Grimmjow snapped, flopping down face-first on Izuru's bed.

"Hey, you have your own room!"

Wordlessly, Gin simply rolled over and opened the blankets for Izuru, who begrudgingly joined him in bed.

Grimmjow was well aware that he had his own room. He just couldn't bare to go in there. He'd always hated sleeping alone, always finding someone- or multiple someones to spend the night with. It was a security thing. Having Hitsugaya on the other side of the room allowed him to sleep peacefully. Now that Hitsugaya was gone, he was having to be creative.

"Woulda stayed with the bitch if she hadn't tried to smother me with her boobs."

"...That's called cuddlin', Grimmjow."

"...I didn't like it."

Ichigo was getting bored. He'd lost track of the days, but knew that it had to have been at least a week. Urahara stopped by frequently, bringing him food and water, as well as the occasional book. It wasn't until the fifth day that, through Rukia, Renji heard of his plight. Though initially surprised that Ichigo wasn't dead, Renji decided to take pity on the kid and brought him an Xbox, a few games, and a small TV.

"Some'a the dorms are a goldmine," Renji explained, watching Unohana hand the game system over. Ichigo set it up eagerly. "Yumichika's kid must have been a drug dealer. We found pounds of pot under his bed. Needless to say, that was a good night." He grinned fondly. "Grimmjow's like a dragon, sitting on a pile of snack cakes. It's a wonder he's not morbidly obese."

Speaking of Grimmjow, it'd been awhile since Ichigo'd seen him. Ishida still checked in, but with the immediate danger of him dying having passed, he spent most of his time alone. Rukia and Orihime dropped by frequently, but never for very long.

But there he was.

Without so much as a hello, Grimmjow slid against the door and pulled out his 3DS, just like he had on that first night.

"...What're you doing here?" Ichigo asked, brow raised.

"Hiding."

"From what?"

"Inoue."

Ichigo's brow shot up. "What the fuck did you do?"

Grimmjow threw his hand and stump into the air. "Can't a dude bust a nut without gettin' called 'honey?' Fuck me, you woulda thought I asked the bitch to marry me," he cried.

"She doesn't strike me as a.. casual sex kind of person."

"Yeah, thanks for the fuckin' warning. She called me 'sweetie' and tried to hold my hand."

It wasn't funny. It wasn't. Orihime had probably felt led on. Grimmjow was a smooth talker when he wanted something. He was manipulative. But, he was short-sighted. He didn't vet his bed partners very well. To be fair, he didn't think about a lot of things before he did them. He was impulsive. He was rude. Fuck, he was a jackass.

Ichigo couldn't help it. For the first time in a week, he laughed. He really laughed. Grimmjow regarded him with alarm, brows raised.

"I didn't know that the dead laughed," Grimmjow snapped, but the corners of his mouth were upturned.

"There's a first time for everything." Ichigo leaned back against the headboard of his bed. "They're saying I'm immune to the virus."

Grimmjow blinked. "Then why the fuck are you still locked up?"

Ichigo shrugged. "Urahara wants to run more tests. It's pissing me off. If I didn't have this Xbox, I probably would have murdered someone by now."

"That's the spirit," Grimmjow praised.

They spent the next couple of minutes in silence. They stared at each other, around the room, around the hallway.

"Hey. Put on some tunes. I see that iPod in there. Let's see how bad your taste in music sucks."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Hey, go fuck yourself. My music's fine," he defended, plugging the device into the speaker.

Grimmjow's eyes lit up as he recognized the opening guitar riff. He jumped to his feet and approached the glass, enthusiastically banging his head.

"She's got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories where everything was as fresh as a bright blue sky," Grimmjow sang loudly, moving his body to the beat. His accent, thick with his fatigue, damn near disappeared with the volume of his singing.

Ichigo approached the glass and joined him, figuring that it wouldn't hurt to let off a little bit of steam. They rocked out with more intensity than was probably necessary. But hey, what other outlet did they have? Grimmjow was being blocked from going out and mangling things, and Ichigo had been confined to a room barely large enough to have a bathroom for a week. They needed to get their heart rates up. They needed to scream.

The mood intensified when the song changed. Grimmjow put his hand against the glass, volume increased and lips curled in a snarl. Ichigo would have been terrified in any other circumstance, but it just served to make Grimmjow look as small and vulnerable as he wouldn't admit that he was.

"I like the kick in the face, and the things you do to me! I love the way that it hurts! I don't miss you, I miss the misery!" he screamed, with Ichigo yelling back at him. They were staring into each other's eyes, so invested in what they were doing that they didn't notice Urahara round the corner. It took the man maybe three full seconds to decide that he probably shouldn't interrupt. He high-tailed it out of there in less time than it'd taken him to approach.

When a softer song played over the speakers, Grimmjow and Ichigo took the opportunity to catch their breath. Their voices were hoarse, their hearts beating hard against their ribcages. Grimmjow's chest heaved as he held the previously initiated eye contact. It was unsettling, but Ichigo made no move to disconnect. It was a fight for dominance, he supposed. They were sizing one another up.

It was Grimmjow whose gaze diverted first.

"See ya on the flipside, Walkerbait," he said flippantly, grabbing his game system and walking away.

Urahara took the opportunity to emerge from the shadows. He entered Ichigo's room, holding a mid-day snack for him. "Walkerbait. I like it." He grinned.

Renji had a reputation to uphold. He was the fastest runner in Seireitei. He could run a mile in five minutes, less if the terrain cooperated with him. So what did that mean? Exercise. A lot of it. He needed to be able to jump. He had to be able to absorb impact. It was more important than ever. What happened on that mission would never happen again.

Early morning was his favourite time to work out. The gym was empty. It was just him and his iPod, strapped conveniently to his arm while he ran his heart out on the treadmill. He could see sun rising over the campus, the air crisp, but not terribly cold, even for January.

He didn't notice the door opening. It wasn't until he caught the unrolling of a yoga mat and the dropping of a bag in his peripheral vision. He slowed the treadmill to a walk and tugged an earbud out of his ear.

Byakuya.

"Morning, Captain," he greeted politely.

He looked gorgeous. Byakuya had tied his hair out of his face, securing it in a ponytail at the base of his neck. He was clad only in a black tanktop and red shorts that allowed Renji's eyes to wander further up than was safe. Renji felt overdressed in his body-hugging white pullover and navy capris.

Hey, he hadn't expected to see anyone else.

Setting his water aside, Byakuya stood tall and greeted his subordinate. "Renji. Do you care to join me?" he asked politely.

Renji didn't see a way he could refuse. "Of course. Let me just-" He turned off the treadmill and set his iPod down. He took a long drink of water before standing across from Byakuya, feeling awkwardly small, though he knew he had at least three inches on his Captain. Those grey eyes were vicious.

"Take off your shirt."

"Excuse me?"

"Take off your shirt. The sleeves will hinder your flexibility."

Right. Of course. Renji tugged his jacket off. He hadn't worn anything under- there was no need. Removing his clothing didn't help the small feeling. He was just small and naked. Well, mostly.

The only sound in the room was their breathing. Byakuya's was slow and controlled. He flowed like water from one pose to another. Renji was far more uncertain, looking to his captain for guidance, awkwardly trying to mirror his moves. His breathing was more ragged, his posture more cramped and far less flexible.

"Breathe."

It was a simple reminder, but a necessary one. Renji met Byakuya's gaze and nodded softly, letting out a long, slow breath. He deepened his stretch and closed his eyes, allowing his hesitance to roll off of his shoulders.

When they were finished, the sun was beating through the windows. Renji felt as if he were made of jelly, while Byakuya had barely broken a sweat. They walked side-by-side, with Renji trying to figure out a tactful way to phrase his next question.

"...Why didn't you tell me about Hisana?"

Byakuya paused. He gave Renji a side-eye before continuing to move.

"I assume that Rukia told you about her?" he asked, chin raised.

"Not much. Just that you were married to her."

Renji could damn near see the emotion bottled up behind Byakuya's eyes. That kind of secret was heavy. It would have to come out at one point or another. Wordlessly, Byakuya changed his path, and motioned for Renji to follow him. Instead of going straight to the stable, he was taking him back to the dorm. They sat together on Byakuya's bed. Now it was Byakuya who felt small and naked. He wasn't one to bare his heart to anybody, let alone a crass brat like Renji. But they were partners. They could trust one another. Renji had done more than enough to deserve to see some of his captain's vulnerability.

"I was eighteen when we married, and she was nineteen," he began. "We'd dated for a year, if that's the correct term. I was a hot-tempered, tempestuous child. She was dear and forgiving. She was far too good for me," he chuckled. "I loved her far more than she loved me, I suppose.

Hisana and Rukia lived in poverty when we met. I brought both of them into my home to give them a life that I felt they deserved. I paid for Hisana to attend college, and Rukia was allowed to travel, choosing to study at Karakura High School, for reasons I will never understand." Byakuya's gaze lifted to avoid dropping, not wanting to be perceived as weak.

"Hisana suffered from a chronic lung disease. It was a nuisance, but not unmanageable. Not until we lost access to healthcare due to the.. crisis." He closed his eyes. "Winter was approaching. I couldn't keep her in Vermont. So we moved west. We were able to drive as far as New York, but from there, we travelled on foot. I think it was her determination to find Rukia that kept her going as long as she did." He didn't even notice when Renji put his arm around him, symbolically giving him strength.

"...She died in my arms. September the third." He blinked quickly. Nobody had heard that much of the story. "She begged me to find her sister. After she passed, I.. buried her, and I pressed on. I had no other choice." The hesitance in his voice was peculiar.

"I was lost. I'd meant to go to Karakura first. But something drew me this way. And, from there, I believe that you were present."

Renji said nothing. For several long seconds, he sat in silence. His eyes locked onto Byakuya's, gaze soft. He wrapped both arms around him, grip tight enough to hopefully distract Byakuya from some of his heartache. He pressed his cheek to his captain's, subtly inhaling the scent of his hair. Byakuya slumped against him in a moment of weakness, finally succumbing to the gravity of losing his wife.

And Renji's heart broke for him.

Ichigo was beginning to think that they were never going to let him leave. If he was impatient before, he was filled with rage at that point. In his mind, there was no real reason to keep him detained, except for Urahara's own morbid curiosity. The bite on his chest had almost healed over, save for a rather impressive scar. His blood samples and bite swabs were all clean, as were his saliva, urine, and.. other excretions.

He wanted to go.

"No more."

Urahara hadn't even been able to put his tray down. "What?"

Ichigo glared at him. "No more. Let me go," he insisted firmly.

Urahara placed the tray of food on the table and approached. He took Ichigo's radial pulse, and placed his hand on his forehead.

"Alright. You can go."

It didn't take Ichigo a second. He shot out of bed, tearing off electrodes and hauling ass out the door. He screeched to a halt and turned on his heels, however, picking up the sandwich that his captor had brought. Hey, he was still hungry.

Never again did he want to see the Fourth Squad building. Ichigo groaned as he felt the raw sunshine on his skin. Even in the mild chill of the January afternoon, he felt invigorated. He was getting strange looks- people probably thought he was dead.

What drew him to the gate, he'd never know. Maybe he wanted to talk to Uryuu? Maybe he just wanted to take a look over the confines of the compound? He entered the little hut, coughing slightly as he opened the door. Rangiku, Ikkaku, and Grimmjow were seated inside, cigarettes in their mouths. He could see Uryuu up in the tower, well away from the smoke cloud down below.

"Fuck, open a window," Ichigo coughed, doing so for them.

"Maybe you shouldn't come in uninvited, Walkerbait," Grimmjow snapped, though it was more playful than aggressive.

Ichigo scowled, and chose to stick his head out of the window. He reveled in the gentle breeze, taking in the sight of grass, of trees, of-

"Hey, Matsumoto, gimmie your walkie," he insisted, holding out his hand. Rangiku acquiesced and handed it over.

"Hey, Katniss, what do you see up there? Over."

"Looks to be a deer. Over."

"Look closer. Over."

There was a long pause.

"Squad Four to gate. Repeat, Squad Four to gate. Over." Uryuu's tone was firm, and Ichigo could hear the urgency.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Squad Four doesn't help animals, Kurosaki. That's good eating." He protested as Ichigo grabbed Grimmjow by the stump and led him to the window, forcing him to look out.

"Open this gate. Now," he screamed at Ikkaku, grabbing him by the collar. Ikkaku shoved him off before taking a look for himself, and running out to open the gate. Grimmjow was seconds behind him, hitting the grass at a run as soon as the gate was opened.

A lone horse was trotting along gently as to not displace its rider. It was dirty- mud concealing much of its true color. But the tuft of white hair peeking out from between the pony's ears was unmistakable.

Hitsugaya.

Grimmjow was the first to meet him, with Rangiku and Ichigo close behind. He was practically vibrating with excitement. A creepy, almost sadistic grin was spread out over his face. He waved his arm and stump to stop the horse, the tired animal lowering its head as Rangiku reached out to rub under its forelock.

Hitsugaya looked down at Grimmjow, a tired smile on his face. "It takes more than that to kill me."

Without warning, Grimmjow delivered a quick, powerful punch to Hitsugaya's thigh. Hitsugaya screamed out, leaning forward and rubbing his thigh.

"What the fuck was that for?"

"For being a fuckass," Grimmjow yelled, punching his leg a couple more times.

"Al-Alright, I got it!" Hitsugaya hissed, kicking at Grimmjow weakly.

Unohana, Hanataro, and Isane arrived from Fourth Squad, rolling a gurney after them. They helped Hitsugaya dismount slowly, and pulled him onto the stretcher. "I'm fine," he said softly. "Well, except for my goddamn thigh," he grumbled. He sighed in relief as Grimmjow approached, pressing their foreheads together briefly, his hand holding the back of the other man's head.

Knowing that he wouldn't be allowed to visit him for a few hours, Grimmjow turned toward Hitsugaya and flipped him the bird. He held up his stump, wanting him to know that he was giving him both fingers, though one was in spirit. Hitsugaya responded with a chuckle, closing his eyes with a relaxed sigh.

Ichigo was dumbstruck. What kind of half of a month had this been? They'd lost Chad. Rukia'd been injured. Ichigo had been bitten. Grimmjow's mental state had weakened significantly. It'd been one hell of a ride so far, hadn't it? He was broken out of his musing, however, by a pair of arms around his waist. Well. An arm and a stump.

"Let's go fuck," Grimmjow whispered into his ear.

Ichigo turned to face him. "Excuse me?" he asked, absolutely flabbergasted.

"I'm fucking pumped. I gotta get this energy out somehow." He was bouncing from foot to foot. "Either we go for a romp, or I've gotta find something to fuck up beyond recognition."

"Sweet Jesus, Grimmjow," Rangiku swore, shaking her head.

Ichigo gave weak laughter. "You're fucking kidding me." He paused, feeling something suspiciously hard against his ass as Grimmjow pressed up against him. "...You're not kidding."

"Come on," Grimmjow groaned, burying his face into Ichigo's neck. Ichigo didn't have to give a verbal response. His body was doing the talking. Grimmjow let his hand wander down, and gave a crazed smirk as he felt the beginnings of an erection in Ichigo's pants.

Ichigo had never seen Grimmjow move so quickly in his life. He practically dragged Ichigo up to the dorm he shared with Hitsugaya, slamming the door behind him. He took Ichigo by the waist and threw him onto the extra-long twin bed. Unexpectedly, Grimmjow grabbed him by the hair, and pulled him into a long, deep kiss. Grimmjow didn't really strike him as a kissing-during-sex kinda guy. He seemed more.. down and dirty. He damn near bit down on Grimmjow's tongue as he toyed with one of his nipples through his shirt.

"You liked that? Really?" Grimmjow asked, spreading Ichigo's legs so that he could settle between them. Ichigo didn't respond, but clenched his teeth as Grimmjow's hips ground against his. With absolutely no patience, Ichigo's shirt was torn off, and small bites were peppered along his collarbone. With a mischievous smirk on his lips, Grimmjow crawled down to Ichigo's crotch, using a combination of his hand, teeth, and sheer force of will to pry his pants open. With a victorious 'aha!' he slid the jeans off of his partner's legs.

Ichigo didn't anticipate that Grimmjow would have any semblance of patience. He also didn't expect him to take his cock into his mouth so suddenly. Ichigo hissed and thrust his hips upward, causing Grimmjow's stump to dig itself into his hip. No words were needed. Grimmjow stared up at him excitedly as he sucked his cock enthusiastically. Throwing his head back, Ichigo grabbed a handful of his partner's hair, which seemed to only encourage the crazy man between his legs.

Orgasm was imminent. Ichigo's knee was trembling. His breathing was tight. His abs were clenched. The hand in Grimmjow's hair tightened. Right when Ichigo felt the coil tightening in his bell begin to spring, the friction was gone. He could have screamed. And he would have, if he hadn't been distracted by the dick in his face.

"Your turn," Grimmjow insisted, teasing the head of his own cock, lightly tapping at his slit.

Ichigo hadn't hesitated before then. But then again, he hadn't been asked to do anything up to that point. He'd accepted Grimmjow's request partly to shut him up, and partly because.. well.. he was quickly learning that life was short. He didn't want to die a virgin.

So softly, experimentally, Ichigo licked up the shaft. Grimmjow sighed, settling into a better position. He arched his hips out, trying to encourage Ichigo to quit licking, and just give him a proper blowjob already, dammit.

As in all things, Grimmjow was mouthy. He was loud, muttering 'fuck,' or 'c'mon, Kurosaki' every few seconds. He reached down and brushed Ichigo's hair out of his face.

"I could cum all over your face right now."

That earned him a murderous glare.

"But I won't. Get your ass on that bed," he commanded, pushing Ichigo off of him and shoving him down onto the bed. He grabbed his partner by the hips, and pulled them into his lap. Out of instinct, Ichigo wrapped his calves around Grimmjow's waist.

"Guess I won't need this," Grimmjow snorted, throwing a condom off to the side. He did, however, apply a generous amount of lubricant to his cock and fingers. Without much preparation, he slid two fingers into Ichigo. Ichigo hissed, but Grimmjow was able to tune it out. At least he was preparing him at all. Grimmjow'd been taken dry dozens of times- but this was Urahara's little chosen one. He could be gentle.

This time.

For Grimmjow, 'gentle' was a loose description. Ichigo didn't know what he was supposed to feel, but didn't think that would be it. He held his breath as Grimmjow entered, both hands fisting the bedsheets. Grimmjow wasted no time, bracing himself on his good hand as he began to thrust. His lips were curled in a snarl, blue eyes clenched shut, sweat on his chest and forehead. It hurt. Ichigo didn't know how he was supposed to act. He was tense. Grimmjow's hips were merciless, driving into him without abandon.

Grimmjow's chest lowered to his. He was tiring, and quickly. The slight angle change sent sparks up his spine. To muffle his cry, Ichigo bit into his shoulder.

Bad move.

Ichigo regretted that decision in mere milliseconds. Grimmjow pulled out hard enough to make Ichigo cringe. He flipped the redhead onto his stomach and pinned him down. He wasn't being passionate. He was being violent. He grabbed Ichigo's arm and twisted it behind his back.

"Never. Again." His voice was dark and serious. Ichigo could say nothing but nod.

Grimmjow seemed to relax, and settled behind him. "Back to business."

Losing his virginity hadn't been what Ichigo had expected. It wasn't bad, well, not most of it. But it didn't feel right. But what had he expected? Sunshine and flowers? Hell no. But he hadn't expected to almost die, either.

He hadn't even gotten to finish.

Grimmjow's step was springy, where Ichigo's was heavy and hindered by his limp. He was sore. He probably would be for a while. When they arrived at the Fourth Squad's building, he declined the seat that was offered to him in Hitsugaya's room, hoping that nobody questioned it.

Hitsugaya was looking better. Well, he was clean, fed, and hydrated. Some wounds were dressed, and had reopened during the cleaning process. He looked exhausted. His face and hands were sunburnt. He looked like shit, but.. better shit.

"Kurosaki!" Uryuu's voice. Ichigo excused himself quietly, though he was pretty sure that Grimmjow didn't even notice. All of the air flew out of his lungs as, in a mathematically unlikely scenario, Ishida wrapped his arms around him. Ichigo stood there, dumbfounded, awkwardly reaching one arm around his back as the hug lingered, and the other hand settled on top of his head.

It was cathartic, really. Ichigo had read that, in the face of close, gentle contact, the body would relax, release feel-good hormones, soothe anxiety. That was why his parents would hug him for longer than he ever really wanted. That hadn't hadn't happened moments ago, when Grimmjow was on top of him. But he could feel it, there in Ishida's arms. He slumped like a happy cat, his chin resting on Ishida's shoulder and inhaling the faint scent of orange blossom in his hair.

"Good. You're already here." Urahara's voice made Ichigo turn, Ishida still in his arms. Behind him stood all of the captains, as well as a select few others. Renji, Ikkaku, Yumichika, Rukia, Izuru. Everyone who had been on that ill-fated mission.

"Let's talk about what the hell went wrong, shall we?"


End file.
